Everything Changes
by allieisrandom
Summary: Waitress AU. When Quinn Puckerman unexpectedly finds herself pregnant, she doesn't know if she'll ever be able to get away from her abusive husband. Rachel and Brittany try to help her out, and all three women end up with more than they bargained for. Fabrevans, Finchel, and Brittana. I own nothing but the editing.


Quinn Puckerman used to love the color blue. It was the color of her mother's eyes. Her junior prom dress. The first bouquet of flowers that her husband bought for her, two nights before they had their first date-their first real date, anyway-and in turn the flower that she wore in her hair the day of their simple courthouse wedding.

But now, as she crouched here in the dark, cramped excuse for a bathroom tucked in the back corner of Sue's Dance Academy holding an undeniably blue stick in her hand, she was sure she was never going to look at that damn color the same way again.

Three pounds on the door caused Quinn to shake with such a start that she almost dropped the positive pregnancy test.

"Fabray!" hollered Quinn's boss. "Quit hogging the bathroom! I needs to repencil my eyebrows on!"

Quinn swallowed before responding. "Just a minute!"

As Quinn rushed to wrap up her pregnancy test and shove it in a discreet pocket of her purse, she could practically sense the other woman's eyes rolling from behind the door. Quinn took a deep breath and quickly fixed her ponytail before emerging from the bathroom and ducking under Santana Karofsky's watchful gaze and slipping away. But not before Santana muttered "You're lucky you're my best ballet instructor," just loudly enough for anyone around to hear it. Yeah, right. Quinn was practically Santana's only ballet instructor. Rachel taught one level 3 ballet class on Saturday afternoons, because Quinn's husband wouldn't let her work weekends, and Brittany taught the Tuesday and Thursday morning preschool ballet classes because it fit best with her schedule, and, let's face it, she was the only one with the patience. But most of the time, Rachel taught lyrical dance and musical theatre and Brittany taught hip hip and tap.

Suddenly, Quinn remembered that she had promised to ask her husband if he wouldn't mind her coming in to work on a Saturday, just this once, to help Brittany out with the preschool dance recital. She'd gotten away with it a couple of times before. It had been sweet to watch the chubby-cheeked toddlers stretch their arms above their heads and twirl, some giggling, some with plump red lips pressed together in concentration. Now, her stomach churned at the thought. (Which may or may not have had something to do with her lingering morning sickness.)

Rachel and Brittany's age old argument over whether or not Brittney Spears could win a Diva-Off against Barbara Striessand was interrupted by Quinn slamming the door to the teacher's lounge and storming in to sit next to them in the plastic chairs that were kept back here along with all of the other spare equipment and supplies and a mini fridge that was functional approximately 50% of the time.

"Hey, Quinn," said Rachel. "Are you feeling better?"

Brittany straightened up. "Did the gingerbread cookies I bought you help?" Rachel shot Brittany a confused look. "The store was out of ginger ale," Brittany explained.

Quinn sighed, sat down in a plastic chair near where the other women were sitting, and began eating Triscuits out of her purse.

"Quinn?" Rachel asked, setting down her avocado and sprouts sandwich and inching closer. "Are you okay?"

"I'm pregnant," she whispered.

Rachel and Brittany gasped. Quinn blinked back tears.

"Are you serious?" said Rachel. "How far along are you?"

"How many days ago did the stork start building his nest outside your house?" asked Brittany.

"How did this even _happen?"_ Rachel asked. "I thought that you and your husband weren't even doing…well."

Quinn wiped a tear from her cheek. "Remember that day that I asked you to take over my last Wednesday class because I had a headache?" Rachel nodded. "Well, I texted Noah to tell him that I would be home early and told him I wasn't feeling well. And he actually went to the store on the way home and bought me my favorite flavor of ice cream and a case of wine coolers. And two TV dinners, so I wouldn't have to cook. And then he came home and he let me pick what we watched on the TV, and reheated my dinner when it got cold, and he was just being so sweet to me, like he was when we first started going out, and by the time he offered me a backrub I had already drunk four of the wine coolers, and…"

Rachel wordlessly reached into her purse and pulled out a clean tissue, which she let Quinn use to dab at her eyes.

"See, this is why you should never let your blood alcohol level rise above 0.02%," said Rachel.

"Because when I get drunk I end up doing stupid shit like have sex with my husband?"

"I've made that mistake too," Brittany mumbled. That got a small chuckle out of Quinn. Brittany's husband, Artie, was a college professor who spent the better part of his week in his apartment in the big city. And some weekends as well. Although Quinn would have traded her bad marriage for a dead one any day, she couldn't help but feel for the other blonde.

"So what happens now?" asked Rachel. "I could give you a ride to and from Planned Parenthood if you want to get a…"

Before Rachel could put her finger on the proper word to refer to the procedure she was about to mention, Quinn shook her head and said "No," in a way that made it perfectly clear that it was not an option for her. "I don't want to get an abortion. But I don't want a baby either."

More tears began streaming down Quinn's cheeks. Brittany abandoned her lunch of a marshmallow fluff and jellybean sandwich to sit on Quinn's other side and pull her into a tight hug.

After a few minutes of the luxury of her friends' quiet comfort, Quinn was jolted back to reality by Santana throwing open the door.

"Ladies, social hour is over! Get back to work!"

"Quinn needs a minute!" Brittany hollered. "She's not feeling well!"

"What's wrong with her?" asked Santana.

"None of your damn business!" Brittany responded. Quinn smirked. Brittany wasn't always as docile and sweet as she looked.

"You'd all better be out here in a minute! Sue is coming by this afternoon, and I don't want her giving me any trouble."

Quinn sighed and attempted to straighten herself up. The other girls began to finish the remainder of their lunches.

 _"_ _I really thought I had a shot of getting out of here,"_ she thought.

GLEEGLEEGLEEGLEEGLEE

The next time Quinn, Brittany, and Rachel had a free moment to themselves, Sue's was closed, and they were all sitting on a bench outside waiting for Quinn's husband to come pick her up.

"How soon are you gonna tell him?" Brittany asked

Quinn sighed. "I don't know. Maybe I won't have to. Maybe my plan to get away from him will finally follow through and I'll be miles away from this town by the time this baby is born." Then she chuckled bitterly. As if. Quinn's friends knew she'd been planning on going to an audition for a dance company in a few months, but it wasn't like anyone was going to hire a pregnant woman for a job like that.

"There's actually something I've been wanting to talk to you about," said Rachel, whipping a folded-up flyer out of her purse and unfolding it so quickly it was obvious that she'd been waiting for just the right moment to show it to them. "Take a look at this, Quinn."

Quinn took the flyer from Rachel and read it out loud.

"Jonesboro singing competition, grand prize worth ten thousand dollars." Quinn looked at Rachel incredulously. "Are you kidding?"

"Just hear me out," Rachel insisted. "You're a good singer, Quinn. Occasionally sharp, but that's just because you lack my years of training. I can help you get better. You practice for two hours every day for the next two months, you go to this thing, you win, and then you take the prize money and use it to get the hell out of this town and start a new life for yourself."

Before Quinn had a chance to answer, her husband Noah came into view in his pickup truck. He began laying on the horn. Quinn quickly shoved the flyer back at Rachel and stood up.

"I'll think about it," Quinn muttered.

"Good luck, Quinnie," said Brittany. "And remember, if you _do_ tell him…"

Quinn shushed Brittany as Noah rolled his window down and called for her to come get in the car. He sped off before Quinn had a chance to finish buckling her seatbelt.

GLEEGLEEGLEEGLEE

"Where is it?"

Quinn glanced up. "Hmm?"

"The money. That you made this week. Where is it?"

Quinn sighed and wordlessly handed over her paycheck.

"You didn't ask me how my day was," Noah snapped as he pocketed the slip of paper.

"How was your day?" Quinn asked begrudgingly. It wasn't as if he had asked her how her day had went.

"Ask me like you care about it!"

Quinn forced a smile. "How was your day, Puck?"

Her husband smiled. He liked it when she called him Puck. It reminded him of their high school days, when she was a cheerleader and he was a big football star. Back before he was fired from Burt's Tires for drinking too much and had to take that horrible job at the construction site that made him stressed and angry and mean all the time.

While Noah spent the majority of dinner complaining about work and how Dave was riding him hard about showing up just a few minutes late three mornings that week because he'd stopped by the drugstore for hangover medication, Quinn smiled and nodded. This wasn't her favorite time of day. Not at all. But she knew she had to have him in as good a mood as possible.

It wasn't until she brought out their dessert, a strawberry shortcake she had made the night before, that Noah noticed she had barely touched her food and asked her what was wrong.

"I'm just thinking," said Quinn.

Noah raised his eyebrows. "Thinking about what?" He took a big bite of his dessert.

"Well, Rachel told me about this singing competition that takes place in a couple of months. And I think I might want to go."

"Why the hell would you want to do that?"

Quinn smiled. "The prize money's pretty good. Maybe if I won, we could afford to…"

Noah slammed his beer bottle down on the table.

"What the hell do you need money for? Don't I give you everything you need?"

"You do," said Quinn. Then she forced her smile to widen. "You really do."

Noah smiled and nodded. And the conversation was over.

Later that night, when Noah was fast asleep, Quinn snuck out of bed, went to the living room, and located the small stack of books that she kept next to the television stand. She removed the first four books from the top and picked up her hollow one. The one with the title "A Midsummer Night's Dream" written on the side. Noah wouldn't even think about trying to read that. Inside the hollow book was Quinn's collection of tips that she'd been hiding from him for years. Money given to her by grateful students, grateful parents of students, even grateful grandparents on occasion. All her years of working at Sue's amounted to two hundred and twenty-five dollars that she'd managed to keep for herself. Just enough to get herself to Jonesboro and back for the singing competition.

GLEEGLEEGLEEGLEE

But Quinn's first order of business was to spend some of that money on something else.

The clock on the wall in front of her ticked incessantly as Quinn scrolled through the songs on her iPod and the other patients at her doctor's office flipped through magazines. She had sat down here determined to decide what song she was going to sing at the competition and opened her music library. The first two songs that had popped up were Alanis Morisette's "I'm a Bitch" and "You Oughta Know", which Quinn had immediately ruled out because those songs didn't match the quality of her voice even a little bit, but she had stopped to listen to them anyway because they matched her mood better than anything she would actually want to sing in front of people. Then she had listened to the entire album of Beyonce songs that Brittany had let her "borrow" for the same reason. Half an hour had passed, and she still hadn't even started trying to decide on a song.

"Quinn Puckerman?"

Quinn stood up and headed to the back room. After the nurse checked her vitals, she was left alone in the exam room with her thoughts and several disgusting-looking 3-D models of fetuses at various stages of development. She tried to look away, but then her eyes just landed on a poster of a woman's protruding stomach, transparent so that the baby inside could be seen. Her innards twisted at the thought that this was what she was going to look like in five months.

"Mrs. Puckerman?"

Quinn nearly jumped with a start when she turned around and saw the blonde man standing behind her. He had confused eyes, a lanky form, and an unusually big smile.

"Who are you?"

"I'm Dr. Sam Evans." He closed the door through which he had entered and checked his clipboard. "Nice to meet you. I understand that you're here because of a…"

"Where's Dr. Pillsbury?" Quinn interrupted. "She's my doctor. She has been my doctor ever since I started coming to this clinic."

"I'm afraid she just went on maternity leave. She won't be coming back to work for another year."

"But Dr. Pillsbury is my doctor. I really like her and trust her."

"Well, um…maybe you could really like and trust me too?"

"I've never even seen you before."

"Yeah, well I just moved here from South Dakota a couple of weeks ago. I haven't met a whole lot of people in Lima yet, see the moving truck got here late, so I've spent all month…" He paused. "Is this story boring you?"

"No," said Quinn. Then after a moment, "Yes."

"Sorry. Anyway. It's nice to meet you." He shook hands with Quinn. "So Mrs. Puckerman, what seems to be the problem here?"

"I seem to be pregnant."

To her disgust, Dr. Evans's face lit up. "Good! Good for you! Congratulations!"

Quinn shook her head. "I don't want this baby."

"Oh," the doctor's face fell. "Well, we don't, we don't perform, uh…"

"No, I'm keeping it," Quinn clarified. "I'm just not very happy with the way my life has turned out. So if you could not congratulate me and make a big fuss every time you see me, that would be great."

"Uh, okay, got it," said Dr. Evans. "For now, I'll just need to run a quick blood test to make sure you're actually pregnant, check for diseases, hormone levels, stuff like that."

Quinn didn't bother to smile. "Sounds like a plan."

A short while later, after the tests were completed, Quinn was sent back into Dr. Evans's office, which was so full of partially unpacked moving boxes that it took him a minute to find a chair for her to sit in.

"Well, un-congratulations. You're definitely having a baby."

This much Quinn had already been sure of, but she nodded anyway. "Un-thank you."

"So that means that for the next eight months or so, I will be here whenever you need me. Just give me a call. We'll be running some tests, all of which I'll be sure to tell you about before they happen, and I'm going to go ahead and get you a prescription for some pre-natal vitamins…" Dr. Evans spend a few minutes nervously rifling through the mess of papers on his desk. "Ah, here it is." He handed it to Quinn. "In addition, here's a list of general do's and don't's, foods that are good and bad for your pregnancy." Quinn nodded as she took the papers. "Any questions for me?"

"No."

"Great," said Dr. Evans as he stood up. "It was very nice to meet you, Quinn. I'll see you in about three weeks."

Quinn gave another nod of acknowledgement. Then, as she was about to exit the room, she turned back.

"Wait. I do have one question." Dr. Evans looked at her. "How pregnant am I, exactly?"

"Uh, very? There's really only one degree of pregnancy."

"No, I mean, how far along am I?"

"Oh. About six weeks."

"Yup," said Quinn. "That was definitely the night I let Noah get me drunk."

Dr. Evans smiled awkwardly in response.

GLEEGLEEGLEEGLEEGLEE

"You're late!" came Santana's welcoming holler as Quinn dashed in through the back door.

"Six minutes late. The bus was late."

"Why don't you just buy yourself a car already? Don't I pay you well enough?"

"Noah won't let me get a car."

"Why not?"

"Because he doesn't want me going anywhere."

Santana sighed. Quinn hurried into the teacher's lounge to change. Brittany arrived just a few seconds after her, had a loud argument with Santana over whether or not she deserved to be fired for being seven whole minutes late, and then joined Quinn.

"How's Dr. Pillsbury?" asked Brittany.

"She's on maternity leave," said Quinn. "This guy is running her practice for now. Blonde. Awkward. Kind of nervous."

"Sounds cute," said Brittany. "If he's single, maybe we could set him up with Rachel."

"I think he had a wedding ring," said Quinn. "He's from South Dakota."

A few seconds later Rachel burst into the room.

"Quinn, thank god," she said. "Santana told me she needs someone to run some papers over to Sue's office, and I just can't deal with her today on top of the stress of preparing my level 4 musical theater students for their dance rehearsal."

"I'll do it," said Quinn quickly.

Rachel exhaled sharply. "Oh, Quinn, you're a lifesaver!" She pulled Quinn into a quick hug, which mostly served to remind her how queasy she was. She brought he hand to her mouth and stood still for a moment.

"You're not going to puke in my car, are you?" asked Rachel. Quinn shook her head no. Rachel handed her the papers and the keys.

GLEEGLEEGLEEGLEEGLEE

"Good morning, Sue," Quinn called out cheerfully. The older woman looked up from her sizable mahogany desk, which was surrounded by trophy cabinets, and peered at Quinn through thick-rimmed glasses.

"Ah. Quinn Puckerman. How's my favorite business looking?"

"It's going well," said Quinn. "Everything's fine."

"I'm serious, you know," said Sue as she removed her glasses entirely. "When I say that the Dance Academy is my favorite business. Sue's gas station, Sue's grocery store, Sue's shooting range, those are alright. But my favorite business will always be Sue's Dance Academy. And you know why, Q? Because Sue's Dance Academy represents the future of Lima, Ohio. As president Benjamin Franklin once said, if you want to be successful in life, the most important thing you could possibly learn is how to do a perfect roundoff. And I will not tolerate anything less than perfection for our children."

Quinn nodded and pretended to understand what the older woman had just said.

"I hear you, Sue."

Sue wordlessly held her hands out and took the papers that Quinn had been holding. She shoved them into a file folder.

"Get out. I have work to do."

Quinn, who already felt like she was going to be sick, was happy to oblige.

"Wait, stop."

Quinn sighed and turned around.

"Are you pregnant?"

Quinn's face turned pale. "What?"

"I knew it. You have that look. That sick, pasty look, that sunken expression in your eyes that tells me life as you know it is about to be over forever. It can only mean that either you're dying, or you're pregnant."

Quinn sighed. "You're right," she finally admitted. "I'm pregnant. But you can't tell Santana, okay? I don't want to lose my job."

"Will you still be able to teach dance without your water breaking all over the floor?"

"Of course I will."

Fortunately for Quinn, Sue was distracted by the loud, obnoxious ringing of the phone on her desk. Less fortunately, she had to run out of the room right then anyway to find a trash can.

GLEEGLEEGLEEGLEEGLEE

By lunch break, Quinn felt like she was going to die. But she still had three more classes to teach that day, and she was going to have to power through and keep demonstrating steps.

"Hey, Quinn?" said Rachel, who'd spent most of her lunch break quietly texting her best friend while Brittany made up songs about random objects in the room to try to distract Quinn from her nausea.

Quinn looked up. "Yeah?"

"Is there any way I could borrow your purple skirt for my five-minute date tomorrow? Kurt's telling me that I have absolutely nothing suitable in my wardrobe.

"Sure," said Quinn.

"Wait, five minute date?" Brittany remarked. "Why are you only going out with him for five minutes? Is he a time traveler?"

"Well, you see, I have this new system," said Rachel. "I talk to guys online and then I agree to meet with them for only five minutes. That way, if they turn out to be awful, I haven't wasted an entire evening. And anyway, I'm supposed to meet this guy at Breadstix after work tomorrow. And in addition to your skirt, Quinn, I'm going to need someone to do a full makeover for me before I leave."

Quinn raised her eyebrows. "A full makeover for five minutes?"

"First impressions are very important," said Rachel. "That's why I've made a list of all the things that I will be looking for over the course of our date." She pulled up a list on her phone and took a deep breath. "How he treats the waitress, how he treats animals, how he treats children, whether he chooses to compare me to Barbara Streissand or Idina Menzel, any possible racist, homophobic, or antisemetic slurs, any mentions of things about my personal life that aren't mentioned on my blog and couldn't be located via a simple google search, any mention of previously having been incarcerated for anything other than a peaceful protest against the mistreatment of humans or animals…"

"Rachel," Quinn finally cut in, "How do you expect to be able to get that kind of information about one person in five minutes?"

"Yeah," Brittany agreed. "I think it's really cool that you found a website where you can meet time travelers, but it's starting to sound like you're overthinking this."

"I am looking for someone to spend the rest of my life and have intercourse and babies with!" Rachel exclaimed. "There IS no overthinking it! If I'm not careful, I could end up being a miserable wife like you guys." Rachel stopped. "No offense."

Quinn and Brittany glanced at each other and shrugged. "None taken," they replied in unison.

GLEEGLEEGLEEGLEE

The following evening, Quinn practiced her singing while Brittany did Rachel's makeup and Rachel coached Quinn through the more difficult parts of _I Can't Say No_ from Oklahoma, a song that Quinn only knew most of the words to because Rachel had her Level 1 Musical Theater class perform it every year as part of their spring recital and the dance studio had thin walls.

"No, Quinn," said Rachel. "It's not "can't." It's "cain't." There's a difference."

Quinn sighed and started again from the top. "I'm just a girl who cain't say no, I'm in a terrible fix. I always say…" Quinn stopped when Rachel turned around and stood up. "Wow, Rachel. You look beautiful. SharkNado92 isn't gonna know what hit him."

Rachel blushed. "Thank you. Good job, Brittany."

"Anytime," said Brittany. "I tried to make your nose look as normal as possible."

Rachel sighed. She looked over at the long mirror propped up on the floor near them and twirled around.

"Thank you for letting me borrow this skirt, Quinn. It's a little long on me, but that's okay."

"No problem," said Quinn. "You can keep it. It's not like it's ever going to fit me again anyway."

"What?" Rachel shook her head. "Of course it will. You're a dancer. Trust me, your baby belly will bounce right back."

Quinn flashed a small smile, although the idea of her stomach expanding to reveal her impending motherhood to the world sickened her even more that the thought of one of Brittany's strawberry jam and mayonnaise sandwiches.

"So, have you decided on a song to sing at the competition?" Rachel asked.

"Not yet," said Quinn.

"You should definitely consider something from Grease or Oklahoma," Rachel suggested.

"Or something about unicorns," Brittany suggested. "I think you could be a unicorn if you really wanted to."

"Thanks, Brittany," said Quinn.

"And then when you win that competition and earn all that prize money," Brittany continued. "You can open a dance studio of your own someplace awesome like New York or the Bermuda Triangle." Rachel nodded in agreement. "You could call it, Quinn's Dance Academy."

"Quinn's Rising Stars," Rachel suggested.

Quinn laughed. "Back to reality, girls. Rachel, good luck with your date."

"Thanks!"

Rachel dashed out the door, and Quinn quickly collected her things. Once she was ready to leave, she noticed that Brittany was just sitting on the bench reading a book.

"Hey, Brittany," said Quinn. "Want to walk to the bus together? Noah's not coming to get me today."

"Oh, not today," said Brittany flippantly. "I need to finish studying up on my leprechaun before I go home or I won't be allowed to eat lucky charms for dinner tonight."

Quinn shrugged. "Suit yourself."

A short while later, Quinn found herself at the bus stop alone absentmindedly scrolling through her iPod again. She was just now beginning to realize just how many songs she had about women who hated their boyfriends and began filing them all under a playlist titled "Nope," which for this purpose she preferred to think of as an abbreviation for "Noah Puckerman."

"Hello?"

Quinn knew who the voice had come from before she glanced up and looked at the tall man standing near her.

"Hi, Dr. Evans! What are you doing here?"

"Car wouldn't start this morning. Mind if I sit down?"

"Not at all."

He walked around and sat on the opposite end of the bench from Quinn, scooting closer as an afterthought.

"So, you're a dancer?" he said, noting the bag she was holding that contained several pairs of ballet shoes.

"Um, dance teacher, actually," said Quinn. "I work at Sue's." Then when she remembered that Sue Sylvester owned half the businesses in town, she added, "Sue's Dance Academy."

Dr. Evans grinned. "Awesomesauce!" he said before looking away in embarrassment. Quinn looked away too, to hide a smirk.

"I've actually always wanted to be a dancer," Quinn confessed. "But there's no way that's gonna happen now. My friend Rachel thinks that I'm a good singer, too, but I've never been able to feel that way about myself. Mostly because I grew up comparing myself to my mother, and then when I joined my high school Glee club-briefly-I started comparing myself to Rachel and all the other girls in the room who were just so much more talented than I was."

Dr. Evans smiled. Quinn flushed and looked down. Why had she just told him all that?

"This girl I dated in high school was a singer. One of the girls, I mean." He cleared his throat. "Anyways, she was really talented. And super gorgeous. You kind of remind me of her."

Something on the doctor's left hand caught Quinn's eye. A bright gold wedding ring winking in the light of the lamppost.

Quinn looked away and laughed in spite of the situation.

"Sorry," Dr. Evans muttered. "That was supposed to be a compliment."

"It was," Quinn agreed. "That's why you shouldn't have said it."

Just then, the bus arrived. Dr. Evans cleared his throat and reminded Quinn that she could call him with all her questions and concerns. She hurriedly thanked him before boarding the bus and heading home to a night of "passionate lovemaking"-at Noah's insistence, of course-despite the fact that she felt sick to her stomach and about as sexy as a trash can.

GLEEGLEEGLEEGLEEGLEEGLEE

The following morning, Quinn left for work early and arrived before both Brittany and Santana (no one ever arrived before Rachel, she got there at six every day to practice her dancing by herself). Despite the fact that no dance classes were scheduled to start for another thirty minutes, there was one tall man casually loitering in the lobby with a bouquet of red roses in his hand. He was starring wistfully through the window to the room where Rachel was warming up, watching her jump and spin and twirl as the _Rent_ soundtrack played in the background, muttering along to "Take Me Baby."

"Hi," said Quinn. "Can I help you?"

"Hey," said the man. "I'm here to sign up for Rachel Berry's dance class."

"Um, which one?"

"Whichever one meets the most often."

Quinn glanced at Rachel through the mirror. She paused long enough to catch Quinn's eye and shake her head, an urgent expression in her eyes.

"I'm afraid that Rachel isn't taking any new students right now," said Quinn.

The man's eyes lit up. "You know her? Tell me about her. What's her favorite food? What's her favorite kind of flower? It didn't say in her profile, so I just got her these-everybody likes red roses, right? Right. What kind of movies does she watch? What are her top eight Broadway musicals? What does she look for in a man?"

Quinn sighed. She glanced through the window at Rachel, who had now stopped dancing altogether and looked just about as sick as Quinn felt.

"Excuse me for just a minute, Mr…"

"Hudson," the man beamed. "Finn Hudson."

Quinn walked down the narrow hallway and pulled Rachel into the teacher's lounge, where no one would be able to see them.

"Quinn, you've got to help me," Rachel whispered breathlessly.

"Is _that_ SharkNado92?"

"Yes," said Rachel. "It was the worst five minutes of my life! He took me through the medical and psychiatric history of his entire family…and then he proposed to me."

"WHAT?"

"And when I said no, he just smiled and followed me all the way to my car making up a song about how he's never giving up on me. Never! What am I supposed to do, Quinn? The first guy who pays attention to me in years, and he turns out to be absolutely maniacal! Curse Brittany's beautiful makeup job and your magic blue skirt!"

"Rachel, calm down! Just go over there and tell him that you're not interested!"

"I told him that last night! And again when he texted me! And again when he texted me from a friend's phone after I blocked his number!"

"Well, go tell him again!" said Quinn. "You've got to get rid of him! You know how Santana feels about bringing romance into the workplace. Don't you remember how angry it made her that one time Brittany's husband stopped by with flowers?"

"Right," Rachel took a deep breath. "Here goes nothing."

Quinn then had to step into the bathroom to throw up, but she did manage to catch Finn's words of excitement when he saw Rachel, and when she came out, they were still talking.

"Listen," said Finn. "I meant it when I said I'm never giving up on you. I never give up on my dreams. Just ask my mom. Oh! You're gonna love my mom. She can't WAIT to meet you!"

Rachel sighed. "Finn, you're a really nice guy. A bit…overeager. But nice. I just don't think that we're gonna work out. I'm sorry. You need to leave."

"Rachel, you're my dream! You inspire me. Listen to this." Finn cleared his throat. _"Tonight, tonight, it all began tonight. I saw you and the world went away…"_

Rachel brought her palm to her forehead, despite the man's nice singing voice. Quinn sighed and left to go set up for her level 4 ballet class. She vaguely heard Finn proposing to Rachel again and telling her that she was the best thing that had ever happened to him as she dialed the number for Dr. Evans's office. The phone call ended with her making an appointment to see him early the following morning.

"Ahem!" Quinn turned around when she saw Santana standing in the doorway of the classroom she was setting up. She sighed and shoved her phone back in her pocket. Santana shook her head disapprovingly. "Don't you have phone service at your house?"

"Santana, why do you hate us all so much?" Quinn finally snapped. "Just because you're our boss doesn't mean you can say something nice to us once in a while. All I've ever heard you say to me, or Rachel, or Brittany, is "get off your phone", "clean up this room" "fix your hair" and "get back to work".

Santana smiled. "That's right, Quinn. Get off your phone, clean up this room, fix your hair, and get back to work."

Quinn sighed as the loud clacking of Santana's heels brought her away. She finished setting up the room and then went and found Brittany in the teacher's lounge fixing her bun. Rachel had apparently pulled Finn outside to deal with him away from all the work prep.

"Hey, Brittany?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you mind covering for me with Santana tomorrow morning?" Quinn asked. "I have another doctor's appointment bright and early, so I might be a few minutes late for work."

"Sorry," said Brittany. "It's supposed to rain then, and if I don't go looking for the pot at the end of the rainbow tomorrow I may never have another chance of finding it."

Quinn sighed. "Suit yourself."

GLEEGLEEGLEEGLEEGLEEGLEE

There was something a bit strange about Dr. Evans's office that morning. Maybe it was the fact that it was dimmer than usual outside, because this was earlier than Quinn had ever been here before. Or maybe it was the eerie silence that enveloped the building. Or maybe it was the fact that Dr. Evans opened the door himself before fumbling through a quick check of her vital signs.

"Where is everyone?" Quinn finally asked as Dr. Evans stuffed his stethoscope back in his coat.

"The rest of the staff will get here in a while," said Dr. Evans. "I came in early just to see you. I know how early you start working."

"Oh," said Quinn. "Well, thank you. That's very nice."

Dr. Evans grinned with that wide, beautiful mouth of his. "I try."

After he checked her pulse and temperature, he relaxed.

"So, you said you were bleeding yesterday morning?" Quinn nodded. "But the bleeding was very mild?"

"Yes," Quinn mumbled. God it was awkward to discuss these issues with a man. Even a doctor. "Sort of like…spotting."

"Has it stopped?"

"Yeah, It was only the one time."

He spent a few moments just looking at Quinn. Really looking at her. His eyes flickered with concern.

"Okay," Dr. Evans finally said. "Let's go to my office."

Quinn followed him to his office and noted that he shut the door on the way in, and then helped her find a seat. His office was more cleaned up than the last time she'd seen it. There were still boxes, but most of the books and papers appeared to be filed. There was also a vase of red and pink roses on the cabinet behind his desk. And a bottle of cologne with a red bow wrapped around it. Gifts from his wife.

"Well?" said Quinn. "What's going on? Am I at risk?"

"Not at all," said Dr. Evans. "Spotting is a perfectly normal symptom of early pregnancy. It happens to most women."

Quinn stared up at the doctor and his dopey, reassuring smile.

"Is that everything you have to say?"

"Um…yes," said Dr. Evans. "No." Quinn raised one eyebrow incredulously as the doctor fumbled for something more to say on the subject. "Actually, yes. That's it. You go now. I'll see you at your next appointment. And again, make sure you call me if you-"

"Have any questions or concerns," Quinn cut in. "I know."

The doctor looked away for a moment. Quinn tried to read his expression. Sad seemed too strong a word to describe it. But only by a hair.

"Exactly," he finally said.

"Why would you have me come all the way to your office just to tell me that spotting is a perfectly normal symptom of early pregnancy?"

"Uh…" His eyes finally shifted to meet hers. Gentle and lost. "I have no response to that."

"What time are your coworkers supposed to get here anyway? Eight o'clock?"

He gulped. "Nine, actually."

Quinn blinked. "So you came in here TWO HOURS early just to tell me that spotting is a perfectly normal symptom?"

"I…yeah. I guess so."

Quinn sighed and shook her head. "Goodbye, Dr. Evans."

"Goodbye. Quinn."

Quinn pulled her loose white sweater around her shoulders as she marched herself out of Dr. Evans's office and outside the building. What the hell was this guy doing? Chatting with her about her personal life. Giving her compliments. Coming into work two hours early just to see her before her own workday started. TWO HOURS. That was more time than Noah had made for her in years. Sure, they had eaten dinner together and made out while his football games played in the background. But he wasn't really focused on her when that happened. Or anytime other than when he was pinning her against their bed or the back of their shower and fuck _that_ didn't even take two hours, hadn't since their honeymoon, and what the hell was Dr. Evans thinking making more time for her than her own husband ever did and being kinder towards her than her own husband ever was and, shit, had Noah called to ask why she'd left for work early? Shit. Quinn had left her purse inside Dr. Evans's office. She turned around and stormed back up to the clinic.

The door swung open before she even reached for the handle. Dr. Evans was standing there, holding her purse in his hand. He had noticed she'd forgotten it.

"You forgot your…"

But before Dr. Evans could get the rest of his sentence out, Quinn's lips were on his, her arms around his strong shoulders. He kissed her back without question, used his free arm to pull her in closer, only loosening his grip when Quinn pulled herself away and ran off.

"Hey!" Dr. Evans protested. "Quinn, wait!"

Quinn stopped on the sidewalk and looked down at her feet as Dr. Evans handed her the purse.

"I want to see you again," he said. Quinn sighed. "Somewhere outside of here. Maybe we could have a coffee or something?"

"I can't have coffee!" she yelled. "It's on the bad food list you gave me! What kind of doctor are you?"

"Fine, then maybe we could go out for…water. Or fruit juice."

Quinn shook her head. "That's a bad idea. You've got a wife, I've got a husband, I'm pregnant, you're my doctor…"

"Absolutely. You're right. It's a VERY bad idea."

No sooner had those words left his lips that they threw all caution to the wind and began making out right there on the sidewalk. In front of his practice. In full view of anyone who might be watching.

"I have a very jealous husband," Quinn muttered as the doctor pulled her against his chest and began kissing her forehead.

"Mhm."

"He drives right past here on his way to work. He'd kill you if he saw us."

"Guess we'd better go inside." He wrapped his arm around her. Quinn took about two steps before pulling away.

"No! I've gotta go teach dance. I can't be late. Santana gets mad when I'm late."

"Let me drive you then."

"No! I mean yes. Please."

GLEEGLEEGLEEGLEEGLEE

Both Quinn and Dr. Evans were quiet throughout the drive to the dance academy. He had the radio set to some station that was playing nothing but Mellencamp, which would have annoyed Quinn if she had been paying any attention to the music. One time, she embarrassingly had to ask him to pull over so that she could throw up on the side of the road. And thereafter, she felt queasy the entire rest of the drive. Because of the baby she was having. Noah's baby. She reminded herself.

She was having Noah's baby.

"Just so you know," Dr. Evans fumbled once they pulled into the empty parking lot in front of Sue's. "You're a good kisser. Like…really good."

"Thanks," said Quinn. "So are you."

Dr. Evans seemed like he was about to say goodbye but then made another comment instead.

"I've been wanting to kiss you since the moment I first met you. I mean, since the moment you first walked into my office. Not when I was running all those pregnancy tests on you. That would be gross. After that. When you came back to me office to talk about it. You looked so beautiful with your hair all flat and, like, knotted up in the back, whatever it's called, sort of like it is now, and then when we started talking I noticed that you had the most beautiful teeth I had ever seen. I mean, not like…"

"Dr. Evans," Quinn finally interrupted. "I will call you if I have any questions or concerns."

He nodded sincerely. But as she was about to disembark his vehicle, Quinn made the mistake of glancing back at Dr. Evans and catching a glimpse of that stupid sad look in his eye that she'd seen earlier. Before she'd run out of his office. Before they'd kissed. What was it about her that made him so sad? And what was it about his huge mouth that made him so damn kissable?

Without thinking, she leaned over and kissed him again. It was as sweet as the last had been, with slightly more tongue. Then Quinn got out, slammed the door, and marched up the back steps. To her relief, the only car she saw in the vicinity was Rachel's. No one here who would kill her for cheating on her husband. Or worse yet, tell him what was going on.

"Well, well."

Quinn nearly jumped three feet in the air when she looked off to the side. There, standing in her usual red track suit, stoic as a statue, was Sue Sylvester.

"Good morning, Coach," Quinn managed. "What are you doing here?"

"Just coming by to pick up the financial reports that Santana promised she'd have ready for me this morning."

"Santana's not here yet," Quinn explained. "But I would be happy to come by your office later and bring them to you."

"I'll be waiting, Q." Sue began walking away, then paused. "You might want to wipe the rest of your lipstick off your face. Whoever you put it on for missed a spot."

As Sue hit the sidewalk and began jogging off into the distance, Quinn pulled out her compact mirror and realized that she had, in fact, completely messed up her makeup. She quickly reapplied what she could of it before going in to practice singing with Rachel. Today they sang _Another Day_ , a love duet from one of Rachel's musicals, alternating singing the male and female parts of the song as they warmed up for ballet. For once, Quinn liked doing the man's part better.

GLEEGLEEGLEEGLEE

Later that morning, as predicted, Quinn was forced to drive down to Sue Sylvester's home office and bring her the paperwork from the dance academy.

"I hope you're doing a good job of keeping your dance students on their toes, Q," Sue remarked as she filed the documents away. "And not just literally."

"I always do, Coach Sylvester," said Quinn.

"You know what I used to do when I coached the William McKinley High cheerleading squad?" Sue removed her glasses and leaned in closer to Quinn. "Every week, I would pick one of my girls at random, and I would kick them off. The trick was, I never let them know that it was just random, so that all of my beautiful cheerleaders would be living in a constant state of terror. Knowing that at any minute, if I so much as saw their knees quiver, or their hands tremble, or their teeth munching on a candy bar, their lives as they knew it would be over." Sue leaned back in her huge leather office chair and sighed. "I love the smell of failure in the morning."

Quinn smiled a little. Then she said something that she might not have dared to say to the older woman, were her brain not in it's current state of disarray.

"I don't believe that you're actually as mean as you'd have us all think, Coach Sylvester," said Quinn.

As expected, Sue looked offended. "Why the hell would you say that?"

Quinn smiled a little. "You tip me more often than anyone."

Sue made a face. "Bleh! What do you know? Get back to work!"

GLEEGLEEGLEEGLEE

The youngest girl in Quinn's level 1 ballet class was six years old. What she lacked in patience, she made up for in confidence. She threw herself into learning their new techniques, asking questions about them, showing them off. She was also the only one who's mother had time to sit in the window outside the classroom and watch with her baby brother in her lap. Quinn caught fleeting glimpses of the frazzled mother, trying to wrangle her baby boy while watching her daughter dance.

This would be Quinn in two years, wouldn't it? Trying to dance, sing, cook, do the things she loved, even clean her house, all while being shadowed by a tiny, screaming imp determined to make it all as hellish for her as humanly possible. The thought made her shudder midstep. Three confused children imitated the shudder as if it was part of the dance, and Quinn had to correct them.

When they all congregated in the teacher's lounge for lunch break, Rachel and Brittany announced that they had gotten Quinn a present. It turned out to be a secondhand copy of _What To Expect The First Year._

"We know you didn't have a strong…positive initial reaction to this whole pregnancy thing," Rachel said. "But she's coming nonetheless, and we think you should be prepared."

"We don't know it's a she," Quinn reminded them. In fact, little that she cared to think of the life growing inside her as being anything, she was almost certain that it was going to turn out to be a boy. A screaming, cursing, peeing-in-her-face, hiding-dead-things-in-her-shoes boy.

"This is the book that every mom has to read before the stork will bring her a baby," Brittany insisted. "So we figured you'd need one."

"That's very sweet of you," said Quinn. "Thank you."

Quinn waited until sweet, simple, Brittany had wandered out of the room "to search the parking lot for leprechaun tracks" for the rest of her break before she broached a subject with Rachel that she'd been thinking about for the past few days.

"So hey, you know how your dads hired Shelby to carry you, and then after you were born they took you off her hands and gave her a ton of money to go make a life for herself in New York? I was thinking, maybe I could do something similar. Hire a lawyer to find an adoptive family or something. Try to get some money out of it."

Rachel's eyes widened. "Quinn, no! You can't just sell your baby."

"It may be my only way to make enough money to get away from Noah if I don't win that singing compe-"

Rachel abruptly shushed Quinn. "Don't you even say that. We are _going_ to win you that singing competition, and you are going to get away from Noah _with_ your baby."

"Not everyone was meant to be a mother, Rachel," Quinn remarked, although she was already kicking herself for expecting Rachel to understand that. She'd known Rachel for years, been to her house, seen the notebook she'd been keeping since she was eight years old full of wedding plans and nursery designs and potential baby names. "I respect this baby's right to thrive, I would never do anything to hurt it, I watch my diet, I don't drink alcohol or coffee, but that doesn't mean that I relish the idea of adding midnight feedings and diaper changes to my schedule. And if I can't get away from Noah, if he still expects all the same things from me that he does now, I may not be able to keep working here anymore, and my whole damn life is going to be reduced to doing work for other people."

Rachel sighed. "We're going to get you out of there, Quinn. If you want to, we can get in an extra singing practice tomorrow afternoon, let Noah think you're teaching a private lesson for some extra money."

Quinn smiled. "Okay."

Once Quinn and Rachel had finished their lunch, Brittany returned and began showing Quinn the pages in the back of What To Expect The First Year where she could write down things like her baby's firsts and even write her first letter to her baby.

"Dear baby," Quinn thought to herself as she went into the next room to warm up with her level 4 students. "I'm sorry that I'll never be the kind, loving mother you deserve. I'm not a good person. Not a good friend. Not the exceptional dancer I always dreamed I would be. According to Noah, I'm not even that good of a wife. And I'm bringing you into a world that probably doesn't deserve you. I've met very few people worth knowing. And been through very few things that have proved worth living through. I don't have a whole lot left to give you, baby. Please don't take it too personally."

GLEEGLEEGLEEGLEEGLEE

"You sure have been putting on weight there, Qunnie."

Quinn covered her belly, not yet protruding, but rounding out, and smiled at Noah, who brushed it affectionately as he walked by on the way to the fridge to grab another beer. It was good that he apparently didn't mind the extra weight. Good that he didn't notice that the bulk of it was at her center.

Good that he had accepted the explanation of a new temporarily evening class as to why she was arriving home from work an hour later every night than usual. And that he didn't notice her singing in the shower, while she was cooking, and around the house. She had finally decided on a song to sing at the Jonesboro competition, "Unpretty" by TLC. It was a song that she could put her own spin on vocally, and that she had always been able to relate to. She practiced singing it as often as she could, and she had slipped Rachel some of her tip money to go out and buy her an outfit for the occasion. She ended up with a pink floral dress with short sleeves that was poofy enough in the middle not to reveal her hint of a baby bump. By the time the day of the competition came, she was all packed and ready. Santana mercifully agreed to give her a few days off with Rachel and Brittany helping out by taking over all of Quinn's classes they could fit in their schedules. And most importantly of all, Noah left for work that morning none the wiser, whistling happily and promising to bring Quinn some painkillers for the headache she had told him was keeping her home from work that day.

Quinn stayed in bed until Noah had been gone for half an hour. Then she got up and packed everything she would need for a singing competition, along with some of her more valuable items of jewelry, a week's worth of clothing, several books including _What To E_ x _pect The First Year_ and her hollow one with all the money in it, and all the pictures of her mother that she had managed to save over the years. Because if Quinn did manage to win this singing competition, as Rachel seemed so confident that she would, then she was never planning on coming back to Lima again. Okay, maybe she would come back to visit if Rachel ever got married, or if Brittany ever had a baby, or for Noah's funeral if he died. And maybe one day she would even come back to visit her mother's grave. When she was much older, and all of this far behind her.

As Quinn settled in on her bench at the bus stop and checked her watch, she spared one last thought for Dr. Evans and his sweet face and his sweet, patient way with her that had always unsettled her so. She would need to get a new doctor if she left Lima. But maybe that wasn't such a bad thing. To have a doctor who wasn't always kissing her and telling her she was pretty and encouraging her to do incredibly stupid things.

Quinn smiled and straightened up when she heard a honk. The bus was almost here. She picked up her suitcase and her purse, pulled out her wallet, and prepared to board.

But the vehicle that rounded the corner and came into view a few seconds later was not a bus.

It was Noah's car.

Quinn's hands began shaking as her husband came to a screeching halt right in front of where she was standing and he jumped out of the vehicle, wordlessly, slowly, approaching her.

"Where are you going?" he asked her softly, his voice laden with fury.

"To work?" Quinn managed. Maybe he'd already had enough to drink today to accept that as an explanation.

"You're holding a suitcase."

Quinn looked away and blinked back tears from her eyes. She didn't have enough time to react when Noah moved to slap her across the face, the blow stinging her flesh and rattling her nerves further.

"Dave said his wife was in a real bad mood this morning," Noah continued. "Said his wife was missing her best ballet teacher for a few days. Said she'd asked for a few days off. Why would you do that, Qunnie? Huh?" He grabbed her suitcase from her hand and began dragging her towards her car. She wordlessly got inside and watched him throw the suitcase in the backseat before locking the doors and slamming on the gas pedal.

Moments after they sped off, Quinn caught a glimpse in the rearview mirror of the bus pulling up to the empty bench. It was going to leave without her. It was over.

"Singing competition, huh?"

Quinn wiped tears from her cheek with her left hand.

"I wanted to surprise you," she choked.

"You've never entered a singing competition before in your life," Noah sneered, his hands shaking as he gripped the steering wheel of the car. "Stop lying to me, Quinn!" He used his right hand to grab her left shoulder. "Answer me!"

"I'm pregnant!" she finally shouted.

Noah froze. He removed his hand from her shoulder and didn't say another word on the drive home. When they got back to the house, he muttered something about lunch and then locked himself in his room for half an hour. By the time he got out, Quinn had prepared fruit salad and homemade cheeseburgers. He joined her at the table and began to pick at his share.

"When were you going to tell me?" he finally asked.

"After the competition."

"You are NOT going to that competition," Noah snapped. "You're not going anywhere. Not with my baby."

"I won't," Quinn whispered.

After a few more minutes, Noah's eyes began to fill with tears.

"What if…what if you decide to love this baby more than you love me? Is that why you tried to leave me? Huh? Were you afraid that you might end up loving the baby more than you love me?"

"Of course not," said Quinn, surprised even now that her husband was getting jealous of an unborn child.

"I'll take care of it," said Noah, "Just like I'll always take care of you. You just need to promise me that I will always come first. If I need something, you'll take care of me first." Quinn nodded. "Say it, Quinn. Say, "I promise I will not love the baby more than I love you"."

Quinn forced a smile. "I promise I will not love the baby more than I love you, Puck."

Noah finally cracked a smile himself. "How about that, huh? You and I are gonna have a kid." He reached across the table and squeezed Quinn's hand. She returned the gesture. "I'm gonna have a son. Noah Zachariah Puckerman Junior. Aren't you glad that I got you drunk that night?"

Quinn let go of his hand and stood up.

"Hey, where are you going?" asked Noah.

"To throw up."

And she did, though this time it didn't have much to do with her morning sickness.

GLEEGLEEGLEEGLEEGLEE

Two miserable weeks passed. Quinn said very little to anyone about her predicament, aside from one text to Rachel explaining why she hadn't made it to the singing competition. Santana was happy to have her back at work. Noah was happy to have her more focused on cooking and household chores. She did her job, cooked, cleaned, went through the motions. Because what the hell else was she supposed to do now, other than cater to her husband, save what little pocket money she could just in case another singing competition came up, and prepare for her impending motherhood.

"Mrs. Puckerman, the doctor will see you now."

Quinn took a deep breath and went back to the examination room, where a nurse prepped Quinn for her ultrasound.

"This is just where we listen to the baby's heartbeat, right?"

"Yeah. Among other things," said the nurse. "Why, are you nervous?"

"No."

"It's nothing to be ashamed of. Everyone gets nervous before their first ultrasound."

"I'm not nervous," Quinn snapped.

"Fine," the nurse scoffed. "You're not nervous."

Quinn kept her gaze locked on a stain on the tile near one of the wheels of the empty swivel chair in the corner. She felt her cheeks redden as Dr. Evans entered the room and said hello to her. She acknowledged his presence politely but did not look towards him until fifteen minutes into the ultrasound, when he asked her if she wanted to take a look at her baby. She turned to face the screen looming above her, and the black, white, and grey blob in the center.

"How big is it right now?"

"About the size of an avocado."

Quinn had endured years of living with an unreasonably strict father who had only respected her when she'd lost all her weight, followed by years of a bad marriage and a job working for a woman who claimed to have razor blades hidden in her hair. And yet it was a blob the size of an avocado that was about to ruin her life.

"Congratulations, Mrs. Puckerman," said the nurse.

"Mrs. Puckerman doesn't like to be congratulated," Dr. Evans cut in.

"Oh. Sorry."

The nurse shut off the ultrasound machine and left the room. Dr. Evans cleared his throat.

"So, I take it we're not going to talk about that nonsense that happened after our last appointment?"

"Nope," said Quinn. "We're not."

"Whew," he muttered. "By the way, I am so sorry about that. Really and truly. I almost tried to call you just to apologize, but that would have been inappropriate, and I figured that if your husband happened to answer the phone he might have smashed it or thrown it at you or something, but anyway, I'm so sorry. I was so tired, you know? All those new patients I was taking on, all those long hours I was working that I'm not used to…yeah. Anyway. No more of that. I promise that from now on, our relationship will be strictly medical and professional."

He probably would have affirmed that promise even further, but he was interrupted by Quinn pulling him into another kiss that led into a series of kisses that led him into leaning over her on the examining table, one hand on her shoulder, one hand in her hair.

GLEEGLEEGLEEGLEEGLEE

A short while later, Quinn sat up. Her undergarments were still on, thankfully, but her hospital gown was laying in a crumpled heap on the floor beside them. Her heart pounded.

What if Dr. Evans had accidentally given her a hickey? What if she smelled like him? What if someone had noticed how long they were in here together? What if…"

"Don't do that again."

Quinn looked up at the doctor, who was donning his own lab coat and brushing some dust off it.

"Don't kiss you again?"

"No. Don't just disappear for a full month."

"I didn't have any questions or concerns."

"Don't do that, Quinn."

"Dr. Evans…"

"Call me Sam."

"Sam," Quinn relented. "This is…"

"I don't want to have another conversation about now crazy we're being. Every time that happens, I start apologizing and promising that I will never touch you again, and instead of accepting my apology you just kiss me."

"I know," Quinn admitted as she got up and began putting her normal clothes on. Dr. Evans cleared his throat.

"Have you been taking your prenatal vitamins?"

"Faithfully," Quinn answered as she pulled on her skirt and zipped it shut.

"Staying away from the things on the bad food list I gave you?"

"Yes."

"Any bad morning sickness?"

"Not any worse than it's been."

"Any more spotting?"

Quinn started fastening the buttons on her blouse. "No spotting, no."

"I want to see you on Friday during your lunch break. Is that possible?"

"Maybe," said Quinn. "I'll have to ask Rachel if I can borrow her car."

"Ask Rachel if you can borrow it. At noon. Tell the nurse at the front desk on the way out that you want to be fit in." Quinn nodded. "I have to go to the hospital and deliver a baby now. Because that's what I do."

"Okay."

"Are we on the same page now?"

"We're on the same page. Sam."

"Good. I'll see you on Friday."

And he grabbed his clipboard and walked out of the room, leaving Quinn to retrieve her flats from under the desk and wonder what the hell she'd just gotten herself into.

GLEEGLEEGLEEGLEEGLEE

Over the course of the next few weeks, Quinn found herself doing something that she didn't normally do very often: smiling. She smiled at the grocery store. She smiled at her students. She smiled through Santana and Brittany's constant bickering over the scheduling of a new hip hop class, Rachel's inexplicable impromptu renditions of _Total Eclipse Of The Heart_ , and even Noah's snoring when he passed out drunk in her lap during football games. All of the little things that normally would have irked Quinn suddenly didn't matter much anymore. Noah could drink and cuss and slobber all he wanted, as long as he remained in the dark where he belonged. Santana could yell at Quinn to straighten up and quit looking so pale every minute of every day as long as she kept letting Quinn have her hour and a half long lunch breaks. Rachel could stress and dramatize every detail of her life for all of eternity as long as she kept letting Quinn borrow her car every afternoon to "go home for lunch".

No one needed to know that in reality, she was using that time to play doctor with her gynecologist. Every wall in his office, every chair, every exam table, and even Dr. Evans's desk had now seen unspeakable things.

His lips tickling the base of her chin, his eyes, so full of tenderness and caring, every part of his body caressing every part of hers. These had become the reasons why Quinn woke up in the morning.

But surprisingly, when she came into the doctor's office for her next legitimate checkup, the person she found when she walked into the exam room was not Sam.

"Dr. Pillsbury! How are you? I thought you were on maternity leave."

"Oh, I am," the redhead responded, brushing a stray lock of hair out of her face. "I'm just back temporarily. Dr. Evans and his wife had to go back to Kentucky for a funeral."

"Oh," said Quinn. "He left. With his wife."

"How are you feeling?" asked Dr. Pillsbury. "Congratulations on the new baby!"

"Thanks," Quinn forced a smile. "You too."

She looked down at her feet in shame at the thought of what Dr. Pillsbury would only do to this room if she'd known just how much of it had been defiled. Including the swivel chair she was sitting on right now.

"Is it working out okay with Dr. Evans?"

"Great. Just great. He's a great doctor. Is he…is he coming back soon?"

"I don't really know. I think so." Dr. Pillsbury stood up. "Well, I'm just going to run a few blood tests on you to see how the baby is doing. You might feel a little weak afterwards, so I would suggest calling somebody to come pick you up."

"Fine," said Quinn. She tried texting both Rachel and Brittany, but Rachel said she had a meeting to go to, and Brittany said she was raising money to feed some starving leprechauns. So Quinn had no choice but to ask Noah to come pick her up. He spent the whole rest of the day complaining about how hard Dave was riding him about drinking in the middle of the workday and the fact that his favorite football team had lost and only stopped when Quinn made him a spaghetti pie and vanilla pudding for dessert.

GLEEGLEEGLEEGLEEGLEEGLEEGLEE

"Still on the leprechaun hunt, eh, Brittany?"

"I'm not hunting them!" Brittany exclaimed. "I'm trying to rescue them from the zombie overlord who's keeping them from finding their pot of gold." Brittany turned around to face their other coworker as Quinn pinned her hair back in its obligatory bun. "Rachel, do you mind if I borrow some of your perfume? It attracts leprechauns."

"Sure thing," said Rachel. "Which scent do you want?"

"Orange azalea."

Brittany dabbed some of the citrus-scented perfume behind her ears and gave a few spins, her bright green velvet leotard flashing under the lights.

"Do you want some, Quinn?" Rachel offered.

"No thanks," said Quinn. "The smell makes me nauseous."

Rachel turned and placed her bottle of perfume on top of the wooden shelf above the desk, where five other bottles of perfume were already lined up. Quinn frowned, suddenly realizing just how caught up she'd gotten in all of the excitement revolving around her…whatever this was…with Sam. She hadn't noticed that Rachel was suddenly buying all these new varieties of perfume instead of using her usual lilac scent that she had worn every day since she was twelve. Not only that, but the brunette had been taking much more of her best friend's fashion advice than she usually did, wearing in-style outfits and doing up her hair.

"What's his name?" Quinn asked.

Rachel was so startled that she almost dropped the bottle of perfume.

"What?"

Quinn smiled. "You heard me. What's the boy's name?"

Brittany stopped spinning. "Rachel is having a baby boy?"

"Nope, she's _dating_ a boy."

"All right, all right," Rachel relented. "I didn't want to tell you guys right away, because I wanted to wait a few months and see if I was sure, but after years of relentless searching, I think that I may have finally found a young suitor worthy of calling himself Mr. Rachel Barbara Berry."

"Who is it?" asked Brittany. "Is he a leprechaun?"

"No, he's a regular person," said Rachel. "Sort of."

"Tell us everything about him," Quinn insisted.

"Well," said Rachel. "Remember that guy who came here before work and wouldn't leave?"

Quinn laughed. "Oh yeah! Mr. Sharknado. The stalker dude with the flowers and the singing. What about him?"

Rachel's face fell. "Well, that…that's him."

Quinn and Brittany looked at each other, the smiles disappearing from their faces only to return a few seconds later, bigger and brighter than ever.

"That…that's wonderful, Rachel," said Quinn.

"It really is," Brittany agreed. "We're really happy for you."

Rachel squealed. "Thanks, you guys!" She held out her arms, hugged the blonde dancers tightly for a moment, and then released them.

"I'm just a little bit confused," said Brittany. "Because at my wedding, when the priest said "to have and to hold," I assumed that he was just talking about spooning. Not stalking."

"Finn is not a stalker," said Rachel quickly. "It's just like he told me on day one. He's not a man who gives up easily, and irritating as I found that at first when he started messaging poems to me on Facebook multiple times every day, I eventually grew to admire that. Along with his passionate nature and his willingness to learn about who I am as a person and cater to my every need. And…I know what you girls are thinking. But he's a sweet guy. And he cares about me, which is more than I can say for any of the other boys in this godforsaken town."

"I'm surprised that you would go out with a guy just because he cares about you, Rachel," said Quinn frankly. "I always thought that you of all people would have higher standards than that."

"That's funny," said Rachel. "I would have thought the same about you."

For a moment, Quinn felt her heart beating faster than normal, until she realized that Rachel wasn't talking about Sam, but Noah. It wasn't exactly breaking news to her that her marriage had been a mistake and had taken place for all the wrong reasons-namely, because they had been the quarterback and the head cheerleader, and because her mother had died and her father had become unbearable to live with and how else was she supposed to be able to afford to move out of the house? But that didn't give Rachel Berry a right to judge her.

"I was eighteen when I accepted Noah's proposal," said Quinn. "I was young and stupid and had no idea who I was or who I was going to be ten years from then. You're a grown woman. You have no excuse."

"Guys…" Brittany tried to cut in.

"Stop that!" snapped Rachel. "You…you're just jealous of me because I have finally found someone who loves me for who I am and cares about me, and meanwhile you have the lousiest, most emotionally stunted husband in Lima."

Before Quinn could get in a response, Rachel grabbed her dancing shoes and stormed out of the break room. Brittany sighed and gave Quinn a hug.

"It'll be okay," said Brittany. "The book said it should take you less than a year to lose all that weight after the stork brings you your baby."

"Thanks," said Quinn.

GLEEGLEEGLEEGLEE

A little while later, after Quinn had calmed down (and texted Sam to tell him she probably wouldn't have a car to borrow that day), she went to go find Santana in her office. Now that one of her coworkers was angry with her anyway, Quinn supposed that today was as good a time as any to break the news to her boss that she was expecting a baby. She found Santana sitting cross-legged at her desk thumbing through a stack of paperwork that she didn't bother looking up from when Quinn came in and sat down.

"I just wanted to let you know that, well, it seems that I'm almost five months pregnant."

"You really think I hadn't noticed that?" Santana scoffed. "Everybody in Lima probably knows."

"Oh. So, does this mean I'm in trouble?"

"As long as you can teach dance and clean up your messes around here, I couldn't care less if you give birth while doing it."

This reaction came as a surprise. Santana was known for being a ruthless dance instructor, and an even more ruthless manager. She wasn't the kind of boss one would expect a positive or even indifferent reaction from when finding out that one of her employees was going to need to go on paid leave for at least six weeks, and presumably intermittently to deal with domestic issues for the next eighteen years.

"Thank you," said Quinn.

"You can thank me by doing another run to Sue's office," said Santana. "Take my car."

"Sure thing."

GLEEGLEEGLEEGLEEGLEEGLEE

Sue Sylvester was friendlier than usual that day, taking care to ask how Quinn's job and pregnancy were going before moving on to "How's that terrible husband of yours?" and then, "And how's the real father of your child?"

"Excuse me?"

"You know, Mr. Lipstick Jungle?" Sue said, gesturing towards her mouth to remind Quinn of the time she'd seen her come to work with lipstick on her face.

"Noah is my baby's father, not the…I'm not having an affair!"

Sue chuckled and sat back, the knowing, sinister smile on her face giving Quinn no room to deny her predicament any further.

"You know, Q," Sue began. "Back in 1776, the year my father was born, the first woman was elected governor of Ohio. Her name was Betsy Ross. The people loved her for her sewing talent, her beer-making skills, and her undying commitment to her elderly, pretentious husband, Benjamin Franklin Ross. But six months after she was elected, word got out that she was having regular sexual encounters with one Paul Revere. Long story short, Paul was forced to slave away the rest of his life in a work camp in Australia, and Betsy herself was stoned to death." Sue straightened up. "The point is, Q, even though Betsy had every reason to cheat on her miserable excuse for a husband, it wasn't worth the consequences in the end."

Quinn nodded. "I understand, Coach Sylvester."

"Good," she said. "That was just a story. I hope you don't think I'm looking out for you or anything."

Quinn hid a smile as she turned away.

"Hey, Q? On your way out, let my secretary know that I need her to call in my heart medication, will you?"

"You got it."

"Good. I was promised generic, and I got name brand. Disgusting."

GLEEGLEEGLEEGLEEGLEEGLEE

By the time Quinn got back to work, it was already time for her lunch break. She noticed that Rachel's car was gone. Rachel never left work early unless she had a 104 degree fever or higher, so this could only mean that she had left to go eat lunch somewhere else, where she wouldn't have to see Quinn. She probably had that Finn Hudson with her. That obsessive mad-stalking Finn Hudson, Quinn thought as anger rose up in her chest. It was bad enough that she had to live with the decisions she had made when she was young and stupid (more so than she was now, anyway). But for someone who had watched her go through what she had with her aggressive, controlling husband to dance her way right into what could easily be a very similar situation…that was infuriating.

Oh well, Quinn thought as she walked into the building and closed the door. At least she had Brittany to keep her company. Quinn walked over to the teacher's lounge, which was closed along with most of the other doors in the building right now, and opened the door.

There was sweet, gentle Brittany laying down flat on her back on a dusty old gymnastics mat, completely void of all clothing except for her shamrock earrings. And laying on top of her, equally nude and pressing a series of slow, gentle kisses to Brittany's face and neck, was Santana.

Quinn screamed.

Brittany screamed.

Santana screamed.

Quinn, Santana, and Brittany all screamed in unison.

And then Quinn slammed the door shut and stormed outside.

GLEEGLEEGLEEGLEEGLEE

"So…let me get this straight," said Quinn. "All this time, whenever you've been talking about searching for leprechauns, or studying them, or doing things for them, you have actually been doing Santana Karofsky?"

"Hey!" Santana snapped. "I'm right here."

"Quinn, you don't understand," said Brittany. "Santana IS my leprechaun."

Quinn planted her hands on her hips and whipped around to face the brunette.

"YOU TOLD HER YOU WERE A LEPRECHAUN?"

"No!"

"She's not ACTUALLY a leprechaun," Brittany cut in, using a tone that suggested she couldn't believe Quinn could be stupid enough to actually think that. "She's just MY leprechaun, because she radiates magic and light and she's shown me her pot of gold."

Quinn wasn't sure if Brittany was talking about an actual pot of gold or if that was a euphemism, and she also wasn't sure which one of those would be worse.

"How did this even get started?" Quinn asked, addressing Brittany.

"Well, one day after work I stayed in this room for a really long time because I got really sad thinking about how Artie never texts me good night anymore and I didn't want to go home alone," Brittany explained. "And Santana was here working late and she saw me and talked to me and made me feel better. And then I told her that her boobs were really nice and asked if it was okay for me to touch them."

Santana looked away and flashed a smug smile at nothing in particular.

"How could you do that, Brittany?" Quinn demanded. "Your poor husband."

"Hey," said Santana. "Her "poor husband" is married to his work, pays attention to her for maybe a couple of hours every month, and forgets her birthday every other year."

"Yeah," Brittany pointed to Santana, "And hers curses constantly and sleeps in a separate room."

"Don't tell anyone else that," Santana muttered quickly.

"If you're that unhappy with Artie, why don't you just leave him?" asked Quinn.

"I can't just walk away from my husband of five years after I promised to love him until death do us part. What kind of person does that?"

"I don't know," said Quinn. "What kind of person has an affair with her boss, who is married to Dave, who we see all the time?"

"It's fine," said Brittany. "Dave farts in his sleep. I don't."

Santana shushed Brittany again. Moments later, the bell above the front door to the dance academy rang. Quinn sighed and left to go answer that, thinking that she would deal with those two later.

Right after she dealt with the person who had just walked in. Who just so happened to be…Sam.

Quinn grit her teeth. Perfect. Just perfect.

"What are you doing here? You can't just come here!"

"Um, it's our lunch break. I wanted to see you, and when you texted me to tell me you didn't have a car today…"

Before the blonde man could say any more, Quinn grabbed him by the sleeve and pulled him back outside.

"Sam," she said. "We can't do this."

"Okay, sure," he said. "I'm sorry. I guess I'll see you tomorrow."

"No," said Quinn. "I mean that this, whatever it is between us, needs to end."

"Why?"

"Because I can't live with the person that this is turning me into."

Sam's brow wrinkled with concern. "What are you talking about? Quinn, you're…"

"Don't!" she protested. "Don't say anything. Don't get all nervous and sweet. Don't talk me out of it. Just go. Please."

Quinn went back in and slammed the door behind her. She wiped a tear from her cheek as she retreated into the teacher's lounge, where Santana was uncharacteristically sitting alone. Brittany had left to go use the restroom.

"You're in no position to judge anyone, you know," said Santana. Quinn raised her eyebrows. "I know that you're having an affair with Dr. Evans. A friend of mine lives in the apartment building near his office and told me that she sees Rachel's car parked over there for an hour every single afternoon."

"Wow," said Quinn. "Thank you. For your discretion."

"Thank you for yours," Santana replied.

Quinn nodded. Even if not for her understanding of their basic situation, or her desire to protect Brittany, Quinn wasn't the sort of person who went around outing people's wives as lesbians.

"Are you a happy woman, Santana?"

Santana's eyes narrowed, then relaxed when the found no trace of sarcasm in Quinn's features.

"Happier than I've ever been in my life."

GLEEGLEEGLEEGLEEGLEEGLEE

Quinn waited for Noah to pick her up from work alone that night. She picked up her phone a few times, thought about texting Brittany or Rachel to tell them she was sorry for the way she'd reacted to what they were doing. After all, as Santana had pointed out, she wasn't really in any position to judge either of them. Rachel had an unhealthy relationship. Brittany had a mistress. Quinn had somehow ended up with both, and even though her friends didn't know that, neither one of them would have traded places with her for the world.

"Hey."

Quinn looked up into the smiling face of one of the last people she had expected-or wanted-to see that day.

"Quinn Puckerman, right? I remember you. You're the wonderful lady who sent Rachel out to talk to me that day."

"Yeah," said Quinn. "Rachel's inside."

"Oh, I know," said Finn. "I'm just waiting for her out here so she doesn't get in trouble."

Finn sat down on the edge of the curb beside Quinn, who smiled at him politely for a moment before looking away.

"I'm taking her to Breadstix for dinner," said Finn. "I heard they have some good vegan options there. Lots of salads and pasta and…breadsticks." He rubbed his hands together nervously. "I think I might finally try proposing to her again tonight." Quinn looked back over at Finn and widened her eyes. "I know she wasn't too crazy about it when I asked her to marry me on our first date, but things are different now. She knows how much I love her, and I even bought a ring."

Finn reached into his pocket and pulled out an elegant silver diamond ring with a princess cut. It was perfect for Rachel. Quinn's engagement ring hadn't had a diamond. In fact, she'd found out two years into her marriage that the gold band wasn't even real.

"It's beautiful," said Quinn. "She'll love it."

Finn beamed and shoved the ring back in his pocket. A few moments later, Rachel and Brittany came outside.

"Hey Rachel," said Finn. Then he took a deep breath and immediately began singing. "There's only us, there's only this, forget regret, or life is yours to miss…"

Rachel grinned and swooned before Finn spun her around in a circle and gave her a kiss on the lips.

"Have fun on your date," said Brittany.

"We will!" Finn replied with a wink in Quinn's direction before the pair ran off. Rachel didn't say anything to Quinn but spared a nod in her direction before disappearing.

"Hey," said Quinn as Brittany sat down beside her. "I'm sorry about how I reacted before."

Brittany smiled. "It's okay. I forgive you." The two blondes shared a hug before Brittany got up to walk to the bus stop, then turned back around and glanced at Quinn.

"It's actually a lot nicer than you think," said Brittany. "At first I felt kind of bad for cheating on Artie with someone who's so much more beautiful than he is, but once this thing with Santana got more serious, it reminded me how nice it is to have someone to remind me how awesome I am. It's something to look forward to, you know?"

"Yeah," said Quinn. "I know."

And she did.

GLEEGLEEGLEEGLEEGLEE

Quinn didn't get a good night's sleep that night, partly because she was thinking about all the things that happened that day, partly because her lower back was aching from the extra weight it was supporting, and partly because Noah laid awake begging her to "treat him like a man", reminding her of all the wonderful things he provided for her, and that he didn't care how fat she got he still loved her and thought she was beautiful, until she finally relented, rolled over on her back and satisfied him. She was in pain the entire time, and he didn't seem to notice. But her biggest discomfort was in the fact that this was the first time she'd had sex with Noah since before she started having sex with Sam. It made her feel even dirtier than she already had. It was just as well that she'd ended things with Sam earlier that day.

The next day was Quinn's day off, and Noah thankfully didn't disturb her on his way out the door to work. She was able to sleep in for a little while, until she was woken by a pointless notification on Facebook that led her to end up noticing that Finn and Rachel had set their status to "engaged" the night before. She congratulated Rachel, both on the site and over text, before making breakfast, which she ate on the couch in a loose-fitting dress that was one step up from a mumu (the only item of clothing besides her leotards that still fit over her expanding belly) and watched television for a little while, only getting up when she heard the doorbell ring. She opened the door without glancing at the peephole because she assumed that it had to be the mailman. She was wrong. It was Sam.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, surprised but not displeased.

"I took the day off of work to come see you," he said. "You look terrible."

"Thanks?"

"Oh no," said Sam. "You look beautiful. Just sad."

"That's nothing new," said Quinn. "It's just taken you a surprisingly long time to notice." Sam's eyes narrowed with sympathy. "I don't need you to save me."

"But I want to save you."

"I don't want to be saved."

After a few moments, Sam asked, "Can I come in?"

Quinn shook her head. "No." He looked away in an attempt to hide his disappointment. "I'd rather go out for a walk."

Sam brightened as Quinn grabbed her purse and keys and emerged from the house, locking the front door shut behind her.

GLEEGLEEGLEEGLEEGLEE

Quinn and Sam made small talk as they walked the five blocks from her house to their destination. He asked her questions about dancing and her job, and she asked him about how he was liking Ohio so far. They didn't talk about Noah, or Quinn's pregnancy, or their affair, or the fact that either of them was married. They just engaged in polite conversation, something that Quinn found tedious with almost everyone else but enjoyable with him.

"This is the place," said Quinn.

Sam looked a little surprised when he realized that they were at a cemetery, but quickly recovered and followed Quinn down a row of graves until she stopped. The gravestone she stood in front of was simple but elegant, much like the woman it had been fashioned to commemorate. The cursive words on the front read, "Judy Louise Fabray, 1967-2006. Nothing's Impossible, Child."

"Your mother?" Sam asked. Quinn nodded. "I'm sorry."

"It's been long enough," Quinn answered simply. "I was only thirteen when she died."

"That's a hard year for a girl." Quinn nodded and let Sam squeeze her shoulder. "Tell me about her."

"Well, she married young, like I did," said Quinn. "Got pregnant with my sister less than a year into her marriage, and me five years later. She loved the two of us equally, but as we grew older, it became clear that I was the one who was more like her. While my daddy would take my big sister out to go to baseball games and the shopping mall, Mom and I would stay home and bake cookies together, and read together, and paint each other's nails. I was her mini-me."

Quinn stopped short of telling Sam that her mother had been so unhappy with her father that she'd almost left him once, and taken Quinn with her. But she hadn't been able to pull together the resources in time, so her parents had ended up going to marriage counseling instead, which ultimately hadn't solved anything.

Quinn's mother had been a staunch Christian, a firm believer in a heaven and a hell. Whether that had turned out to be true or not, Quinn hoped to God that her mother wasn't watching her right now, and hadn't been watching her repeat her mistakes for the past ten years.

"What was she like?" Sam prompted gently.

"She was wonderful. She made the best cookies, and told the best stories. She was an amazing singer, too, but I don't think she ever sang in front of anyone but her family. She had a special song for each of us."

"What was her song for you?" asked Sam.

Quinn closed her eyes and began to sing. She wasn't sure what the name of the song was, but she remembered the words to it.

 _"_ _Never forget who you are  
Little star  
Shining brighter than all the stars in the sky  
Never forget how to dream  
Butterfly  
Never forget where you come from  
From love_

 _You are a treasure to me  
You are my star  
You breathe new life  
Into my broken heart"_

When Quinn opened her eyes, they were filled with tears. Sam wordlessly stepped around her and pulled her into his chest.

Later that day, Quinn would re-open her pregnancy book and resume her letter to her unborn child.

"Dear Baby. I hope that one day, somebody holds you for twenty minutes straight. They don't look at your face. They don't pull away. They don't try to kiss you. All they do is wrap you up in their arms and hold you without an ounce of selfishness to it. I hope you become spoiled, baby. I hope you become spoiled by saying things and having them matter to someone."

GLEEGLEEGLEEGLEEGLEEGLEEGLEEGLEE

"So, what are you doing here?" Quinn asked as she and Sam rounded the penultimate corner on the way back to her house.

"I'm…taking a walk with a beautiful lady."

Quinn laughed. "No, I mean what are you doing in Lima?"

"Oh," said Sam. He hesitated. "Well, my wife," Quinn's heart immediately dropped, "She's a doctor, too. And she's doing her residency at the hospital."

"Are you happy with her?" Quinn asked.

"I'm happy right now," said Sam. "With you."

Quinn smiled. She liked that answer. So much that she invited him inside for lunch before they were inside of her house. And they had lunch. And they kissed. And then they had sex in the shower. And then they did something even more intimate. They talked. About how comfortable and relaxed they felt with each other. About the way that Quinn's marriage had disintegrated over the years, as she'd grown up and left her husband behind in his juvenile state, drink by drink, bar fight by bar fight. About their families, their childhoods, the things they loved. The people they loved.

And with that, the affair was back on. Because no matter how bad it was for both of them, it was clear that Quinn and Sam mattered to each other. He had started out as her doctor. Then he had become her lover. Now he was her doctor, her lover, her therapist, her best friend, and her confidante.

Quinn apologized to Rachel the following day at work, and the two friends made up. Rachel resumed allowing Quinn to use her car every day at lunchtime, and Quinn agreed to be one of Rachel's bridesmaids and began helping her out with wedding plans for an hour before work every day. They booked a small non-denominational chapel for the ceremony, convinced Santana to let them have the reception at the dance studio, and ordered a full buffet and a five-tier vegan cake from Breadstix. In the midst of all the wedding plans, Rachel found time to begin giving Quinn singing lessons again. They had found another competition to train for, this one with a prize worth fifty thousand dollars. Sometimes, Sam would listen to Quinn sing the songs she'd been practicing, and he would tell her that she had the voice of an angel, and that her mother would be proud.

GLEEGLEEGLEEGLEEGLEEGLEEGLEEGLEEGLEE

Rachel Berry's apartment had never felt more small or pink than it did right now with five people in it in addition to Rachel herself. She had asked two of her friends from high school to be her bridesmaids in addition to Quinn and Brittany, and her best friend, Kurt, served as both the fashion designer and the man of honor.

"Yep, I thought so," Kurt muttered to himself as he checked his measuring tape. "Still almost as short as the bride."

"Talking about me or yourself?" Tina joked, which earned her a dirty look from Kurt.

"And you…" Kurt pointed to Quinn, who'd been in the corner practicing her singing with Rachel and Mercedes. "Are about to become the bane of my existence. How pregnant are you, exactly?"

"Six-and-a-half months."

Kurt sighed. "May I?" Quinn nodded, and he wrapped his measuring tape around the circumference of her belly. "I guess I can make this work. I'll just have to plan for you to expand an extra four inches and make whatever alterations I need to at the last minute."

"Thanks."

"No problem," said Kurt. "Just think about this next time you decide to get pregnant a few months before somebody's wedding."

Quinn thought about pointing out that her fetus was older than Finn and Rachel's relationship, but decided against it. She wondered if perhaps being Rachel's best friend of over a decade, Kurt might have his own reservations against the marriage. He must. Any normal person would. But the fact that he was doing what he could to help her put the wedding together rather than actively trying to stop it had to mean that he didn't think Finn would harm Rachel either.

Suddenly, Quinn realized that Brittany hadn't said a word or gotten up off the couch since she'd gotten there.

"Hey Brittany, you okay?"

Brittany jolted at the sound of her name.

"Quinn, did you know that stars aren't always who they say they are?"

Quinn frowned as Kurt motioned for her to stand up straighter so he could measure her height. "What do you mean?"

"I'm watching something about a girl who acts like she's a normal teenager but she's actually a famous pop star but she doesn't tell any of her friends that because she wants to have a normal life."

"Are you watching Hannah Montana?" asked Quinn.

Brittany's jaw dropped. "Yes! How did you know her name? You're a star too, aren't you?"

"No," said Quinn. "Brittany, that's just a TV show. It's pretend."

"No it's not! Miley Cyrus is a real person!"

Quinn sighed, knowing that explaining the situation would probably be hopeless.

"So, Rachel," said Kurt. "Any chance you've decided whether you want to hire a band or a DJ?"

"Neither, of course! Don't tell me you've forgotten that we promised to sing at each other's wedding receptions."

"We said we'd sing the first song," said Kurt with a nudge. "I was sort of hoping to not wear out my vocal chords by the end of the night."

"Hey," Tina cut in. "Maybe we could take turns. I'd love to have a reason to get up on stage again."

"Same here," said Mercedes, who was already pulling out a list of songs. "If he leaves you at the altar, I could sing Hell to the No."

Quinn finally spoke up. "Maybe I could help too." Everyone looked over and glanced at her. "I could sing the songs we've been working on. It would be good practice."

Rachel squealed. "Yes! This is amazing! I'm going to have a Glee wedding!"

Then Brittany abruptly stood up. "Why? Are you inviting Hannah Montana?"

No one said anything.

GLEEGLEEGLEEGLEE

"Rachel, I have something to tell you. It's a secret."

Quinn paused just outside the door to the teacher's lounge.

"It's about Quinn," said Brittany. "I think she might be Avril Lavigne."

"What?"

"It makes perfect sense. She knew who Hannah Montana was without me telling her, she has long blonde hair, and she has boy problems, and she seems angry all the time. When you think about it, how could Quinn and Avril Lavigne NOT be the same person?"

Quinn stifled a giggle and went inside. Brittany gasped.

"Rachel, she knows we're onto her."

"Brittany," said Quinn. "If I were secretly Avril Lavigne, and I were making money selling all those albums, would I still be living in this town and married to Noah?"

Brittany's face fell. "Maybe not. But what if that's just part of your cover?"

Quinn sighed. "I don't sound anything like Avril Lavigne. See?" She cleared her throat. "You're not alone, together we stand, I'll be by your side you know I'll take your hand."

Brittany crossed her arms and frowned skeptically. Quinn had to finish another two verses of Keep Holding On before Brittany was satisfied that she didn't sound anything like Avril.

"Quinn," said Rachel suddenly. "That's it!"

"What?"

"That right there. That's the song you're going to sing at the Cincinnati Singing Competition. You're gonna kill it and you're gonna win!"

Brittany grinned. "And _then_ she'll be Avril Lavigne!"

Quinn couldn't help but smile. "Something like that!"

GLEEGLEEGLEEGLEE

"I don't like you."

Quinn glanced up from the book she was reading. She thought for a moment that her husband was talking to some dumb football player who'd messed up some dumb move in the game he was watching, but when she looked up at the TV and saw nothing but a commercial.

"Excuse me?" said Quinn.

"Not you," Noah clarified. "The baby. It's already making you tired all the time."

"That's because I'm carrying it around in my uterus."

"Ah. I guess that makes sense. Remember what we agreed on the day I found out you were pregnant. I come first."

"Of course."

Noah took Quinn's hand in his and kissed it.

"I come first," he repeated.

GLEEGLEEGLEEGLEE

"Okay, so right after Finn and I have our first dance, you will go up and sing your song, then Mercedes will sing her first song, then Tina will sing, then Kurt again, then Tina again, and then at the very end of her song, we will pull back the curtains and wheel out the cake, which consists of five layers of sweetened vegan chocolate with white icing and marzipan figurines of Finn and myself. And then Finn and I will cut the cake and after a few more songs we will sing a romantic duet to finish off the night. Got that, Quinn?"

"Got it!" said Quinn, who'd been making notes for Rachel on her iPad.

"Will you keep it down?" asked Brittany. "I'm watching TV."

"Sorry!" said Quinn. Santana had inexplicably decided to install a TV in the teacher's lounge (probably, Quinn had realized, to cover up the sound of her trysts with Brittany) and Quinn had brought in some One Tree Hill DVDs in an attempt to get Brittany away from the Hannah Montana obsession. It was working, much to Rachel's disappointment (Brittany had been convinced that Rachel was secretly Idina Menzel) and everyone else's relief.

"I've got the guest list narrowed down to exactly twenty-four," said Rachel. "There's my dads, Finn's mom and grandparents, you and Noah, Brittany and Artie, Dave and Santana, Kurt, Mercedes, and Tina, Mercedes and Tina's dates, Kurt's dad, Dr. Pillsbury, five of my students wanted to come, and then, as a courtesy, I felt like I had no choice but to include Sue Sylvester."

"Sue's not all that bad," said Quinn. "Once you get to know her."

"Eh," said Rachel. "I'm still waiting for her to apologize for trying to convince sixteen-year-old Rachel Berry that she needed to get a nose job in order to succeed on Broadway and nailing Kurt's lawn furniture to his roof."

"Are you sure that was her?"

"I'm pretty sure. We found the fabric from one of her track suits pinned to one of the nails. Oh! That reminds me. I should play you a sample of each of the songs that Kurt is planning on singing at my wedding reception, and you tell me which of them would be more appropriate for our first dance."

"Guys!" snapped Brittany, raising her voice for perhaps the only time during the duration of her friendship with Rachel and Quinn. "You do NOT play music over Haley's graduation speech."

Rachel sighed. "Alright then."

GLEEGLEEGLEEGLEE

"There's nothing you can say," sang Quinn. "Nothing you can do. There's no other way when it comes to the truth, just…" she paused when she saw that her audience was looking her up and down with an amused smirk. "What?"

"Nothing," said Sam. "It's just that you have never looked sexier to me than you do in this moment."

Quinn smiled. "Oh yeah?" she walked over and sat down in Sam's lap, which only worked when he leaned back and allowed her to rest her baby bump against his stomach. She kissed him full on the mouth and lingered there for a moment. "Let's just hope that the judges in Cincinnati are as impressed as you are."

"You're singing the same song at your friend's wedding, right? When is that?"

"In two weeks." Quinn ran her fingers through Sam's soft blonde hair. "A week and a half before the singing competition. Six weeks before my due date."

"Are you prepared for that?" he asked.

"For the baby to come? As prepared as I'll ever be."

"No, for Cincinnati. Like, for the bus to get there, and the hotel, and meals for yourself and stuff."

"Yeah, don't worry about me," said Quinn. "I've got nearly five hundred dollars saved up in that hollow book of mine. That should be enough to take care of us for a few days."

"Good," said Sam. "I'm glad to hear that. But you know, if you ever need a little bit to tide you over…" he paused. "It's the least I can do for the woman I lo…"

Quinn kissed him again, with the sole intent of keeping him from finishing that word. Then they made out for the rest of their lunch hour.

GLEEGLEEGLEEGLEEGLEE

Soon enough, the day of the wedding finally arrived. Kurt walked down the aisle first in his pink man-of-honor tuxedo followed by Tina, Quinn, Mercedes, and Brittany in their pink dresses. Then finally came Rachel, dressed to the nines in her Mollie Kurt original wedding gown, one of her dads accompanying her on either side. Kurt's father performed the ceremony. Their vows were simple and sweet, and their first kiss to thunderous applause.

For Finn and Rachel's first dance, which took place in the largest dance classroom at the academy, Kurt sang the song "Come What May". Then came Quinn's first public rendition of Keep Holding On, which Finn danced to with his mother and Rachel danced to with both of her dads. Mercedes followed that up with Whitney Houston's I Have Nothing, at which point all of the wedding guests came out on the makeshift dance floor. Brittany and Artie danced together as best they could, him occasionally giving her spins on his lap in his wheelchair, while Dave and Santana danced together nearby. Quinn sat down in a chair and watched.

"Are you doing okay?" asked Kurt as he went over to her. "Did I make your dress too tight?"

"No, it's perfect," said Quinn. "I'm just a little too tired for dancing. I love all of the outfits you made us."

Kurt beamed. "Thanks. Your singing is amazing, by the way. You're a sure win for that contest."

Just then, Dave accidentally slipped on a spot on the floor near Kurt and Quinn. His reflexes were just quick enough to let go of Santana's hands in time to avoid pulling her down, but not quick enough to stop himself from toppling over into the wall and knocking Kurt into Quinn's lap. Dave caught himself on the barre and Kurt caught himself on the arm of the chair, missing Quinn's baby bump by mere inches.

"Oh my god, I am so sorry," said Dave. "Quinn, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," said Quinn, but Dave's concerned gaze had already moved to Kurt's face.

"Are you hurt?" Dave asked.

"No, I'm fine," said Kurt. "You're Santana's husband, right?"

"Honey?" said Santana, pulling on Dave's arm. "Could you get me something to drink? I told Rachel I'd sing a song with her friend Mercedes, and my throat is getting dry."

"Sure thing, sweetheart," said Dave as he grudgingly kissed Santana on the cheek. She slipped off to go talk to Mercedes before he had a chance to ask her where the drinks were being kept, so Kurt offered to show him. Quinn sat alone for a few minutes and watched people pair up as Tina began to sing her song, Endless Love. Tina's boyfriend danced with Santana, leaving Sue Sylvester the only person without a dance partner in the room besides Quinn. Sue quietly walked over and sat down next to Quinn.

"Where's the bad husband tonight?" Sue asked.

"He had a long day at work and didn't feel like coming," Quinn admitted. "He's probably out drinking with his friends."

Sue sighed. "That eminds me of my wedding. My father was supposed to make a speech, but he got so drunk by the end of the ceremony that he ended up puking in the punch bowl instead. So my sister had to do the speech for him. It was just the last five pages of Little Red Riding Hood, but at least it was coherent."

"Wow," said Quinn. "I didn't know you ever got married. What was he like?"

"Oh, it wasn't a he. It was me."

"You got married…to yourself?"

"Best marriage anyone I know has ever had, Q. No squabbling over who's turn it is to take out the trash. No waking up with a foot in my face in the middle of the night. No risk of…" she gestured to Quinn's baby bump, "That. Just a lifelong commitment to the one person who I know I've always been able to count on, plus an excuse to buy myself a new track suit for my anniversary every year. The only time that my marriage has ever been a pain has been when it comes to filling out paperwork. For example, when I go in for my heart surgery next week, I'll have to fill out two forms, one designating myself as my emergency contact, and one stating that I am my organ recipient of choice."

Quinn frowned. "Heart surgery? Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, it's no big deal," said Sue. "Apparently keeping oneself in a constant state of rage is bad for your heart. Who knew?"

Quinn chuckled. "Well, let me know if there's anything I can do for you, Sue."

Sue didn't respond. A few moments later, Quinn noticed Dr. Pillsbury come in the door and briefly hug Rachel before Rachel resumed dancing with Finn, and Dr. Pillsbury began casually dancing with…wait…that couldn't be right.

There was Sam, joking and laughing with his boss, blonde hair slicked back, handsome as hell in his slightly oversized tuxedo.

"That's him, huh?" said Sue. Quinn shushed her immediately.

What was Sam doing here? How could he just come into a public place…her workplace…with no warning, when he knew that she and everyone she knew would be there? How could he do this to her?

"I hope you're not wasting too much of your life on that one," said Sue.

"You don't know what you're talking about." The words flew out of Quinn's mouth as her muscles tensed. Sue leaned forward in her chair and looked Quinn dead in the eye.

"What I know, Q, is that if I had been more like you when I was younger…if I had had that special spark that I've always seen in you, then I wouldn't be the woman I am today. You wouldn't know it looking at everything I've ended up with, but I've been lost, Q. Don't end up like me. Make the right choice. Start fresh. It's never too late."

"That's the plan," Quinn whispered. "If I can get the money, that is."

"Money, schmoney."

Quinn smiled. "I'm about to be having a baby, Sue."

Sue sighed. "Yeah, I know you are. I was just dreaming a little for you. Because all my dreams are gone."

GLEEGLEE

Sue got up and walked away just as Tina finished up the final note of her song. Everyone clapped as she ascended the stage. But Kurt, who was supposed to go next, curiously didn't appear. After a few minutes of whispering, Sam walked up onstage and took the microphone.

Quinn's heart dropped into the pit of her stomach.

Sam cleared his throat, whispered something to the pianist, and then after a few notes tinkled out of the piano, began to sing.

 _"_ _Do you hear me?  
I'm talking to you  
Across the water across the deep blue ocean  
Under the open sky, oh my, baby I'm trying_"

Most of the guests relaxed and resumed dancing with one another. Sam continued singing.

 _"_ _Cause girl I hear you, in my dreams  
I feel your whisper across the sea  
I keep you with me in my heart  
You make it easier when life gets hard"_

Sam looked up across the room and locked eyes with Quinn for a moment. She looked down and fixed her gaze on her wedding ring.

 _"_ _I'm lucky I'm in love with my best friend  
Lucky to have been where I have been  
Lucky to be coming home again  
Lucky we're in love in every way  
Lucky to have stayed where we have stayed  
Lucky to be coming home someday"_

Quinn looked up to see if Sam was still looking at her as he began the second verse of the song. He was. For a moment, she tried to use her eyes to beg him to stop. But then she saw the pure love in his smile. The longing in his gaze. The depth with which he wanted her, and cared about her. More than anyone but him had ever cared about her in years.

 _"_ _Though the breezes through trees  
Move so pretty you're all I see  
As the world keeps spinning round  
You hold me right here right now"_

By the time the song was over, Quinn's cheeks were wet with tears that she hadn't noticed herself crying. She sniffled and wiped her nose on a handkerchief, which she tucked away into her purse just in time for Rachel to march up to her and grab her hand. The bride did not look happy.

"Get over here right now."

Rachel stormed out of the room, shamelessly dragging Quinn behind her, and out into the narrow, empty hallway between the wedding reception and the teacher's lounge. They paid no mind to the noise coming from the nearby room as Mercedes began singing a ballad.

"What the hell was that?" asked Rachel.

"What are you talking about?"

"That look between you and Dr. Pillsbury's plus one."

"Dr. Evans?" Quinn feigned confusion. "He's the one who's been treating me throughout my pregnancy. I was surprised to see him. That's all."

"Which is why you two were having public eye sex at my wedding? Don't lie to me, Quinn. I know that he was singing that song to you-and only you. I should have noticed that there's been something strange going on with you. You've been acting distant ever since you started asking me to let you borrow my…OH MY GOD, THAT'S what you've been using my car to do during lunch break every day, isn't it? Quinn, how can you be having intercourse with your obstetrician? It's deplorable, and contemptable, and it's just plain wrong. It's also cheating. Your marriage might be a joke, but that doesn't mean that his is."

"Hey!" said Brittany, approaching Rachel from behind. "Leave Quinn alone. I don't see why you have any business judging her for having an affair with someone who makes her happy and gives her life meaning when your husband started out as Psycho Derek and then all of a sudden turned into Nathan Scott."

Brittany stepped over to Quinn and looped one arm around her. Rachel starred both of them down with all of the fury that could be wielded within one five-foot-two woman.

Just then, the door to the reception room burst open, and out poured the crowd being led by Finn.

"Oh, there you are, babe," said Finn as he kissed Rachel on the cheek. "Now it's time to cut the cake!"

Finn excitedly threw open the door to the teacher's lounge and turned the light on, revealing one wedding cake, several coolers full of drinks, and atop those coolers, two men caught up in what appeared to be a passionate embrace but in reality was no more than a typical wedding hookup. Dave Karofsky's face appeared before the shocked crowd for a split second before he disappeared into the back of the room, leaving Kurt's flushed cheeks and disheveled tux exposed.

Finn turned back to Rachel and grinned awkwardly. "Love you, honey?"

GLEEGLEEGLEEGLEEGLEE

It was another two hours before Quinn made it back to her house. Immediately after the cake was eaten, Brittany had insisted on taking Santana home, Rachel and Kurt had gotten into a big fight, and most of the guests had ended up leaving. Quinn, Mercedes, and Tina had been left to clean up the mess while Rachel and Finn left for their weekend honeymoon. Then Mercedes had given Quinn a ride back home on her way back to the hotel.

The first thing Quinn noticed was that the light in her living room was on. That was strange. Noah was usually passed out by now if he was at home. When she opened the door, she found him sitting on the couch, wide awake but with a bottle in his hand. There were several smatterings of glass on the floor where empty bottles had been thrown at walls, or at objects. The one other noticeable mess was that the stack of books in the corner behind the entertainment center had been toppled over.

Quinn's hollow book was sitting on the coffee table.

"Open the damn book, Quinn," seethed Noah.

"I…"

"Just…open…the book."

Quinn hesitantly pulled back the front cover. She was sure that he had either taken all the money out, or filled it with broken glass or something else dangerous, but all she found inside was the same four hundred and eighty two dollars she had left in there. All of the money that was supposed to get her to the singing competition.

"What the fuck is that, Quinn? After all I've done for you…" he stood up. "You would hide money from me, in my own house?" Quinn didn't say anything. Noah stood up and grabbed her wrist. "Answer me!" he shouted, arbitrarily flinging the beer bottle he'd been holding at the back wall of the room, causing it to smash to pieces, and then throwing Quinn against the wall. "How could you do this to me?" Noah asked, his voice shaking. "You're the only thing I ever loved, Qunnie. You're the only person that ever belonged to me."

Quinn took a deep breath.

"I was just gonna buy you a present, Noah," she said. "I wanted to surprise you."

He loosened his grip on her hand slightly. "What present?"

"Probably a new TV," Quinn forced a smile. "Something nice. For our anniversary. And then maybe I thought that I could use whatever was left to buy some things for the baby. Like a crib, maybe some toys."

Noah relaxed, let go of Quinn, and let loose a chuckle. Then he pulled Quinn close to his arms and kissed her several times. Then she pulled him into a hug and held him for a while, keeping her face where he wouldn't see her tears.

The next morning, Quinn and Noah went out to buy a new crib and a new TV. Then they brought them home and set them up. Quinn placed a mattress and blankets in the crib. She felt her baby kick and knew that every time she went to lay her baby down in this crib, all she was going to be able to think was, damn baby, damn crib, damn Noah, damn life.

GLEEGLEEGLEEGLEEGLEE

Within three days, Kurt, Mercedes, and Tina had all left Lima. Somehow, the press had gotten ahold of the fact that Kurt Hummel, former NYADA student and owner of the Mollie Kurt fashion label, was caught in a sex scandal with the manager of a home repair business in his hometown. Kurt had gone public and assured everyone that the men had only been kissing, and also that he hadn't known the other guy was married. Several eyewitnesses had backed him up and helped to repair the damage to his reputation. The damage to Dave's reputation, and his marriage, was another matter entirely. Santana filed for separation the same day that she packed all her things and temporarily moved into Artie and Brittany's apartment. Rachel's outrage at having her wedding ruined by everyone she knew cheating on their spouses was dampened by having a few days to relax in bed with her new husband, and of course the wedding gifts she returned home to.

Rachel's first day back at work after her honeymoon was also Santana's first day back at work after she barricaded herself inside for a few days to avoid the press. Aside from Brittany shamelessly taking her breaks in Santana's office with the door closed, and Quinn and Rachel taking their lunch breaks together in the break room in silence, not much changed about Sue's Dance Academy.

"Do you want to borrow my car?" Rachel finally asked Quinn after a few days.

Quinn shook her head. She hadn't spoken to Sam since the wedding, and had received only one text from him reading, "I'm sorry, I couldn't hide it any longer." No doubt he had more to say, but he was respecting her space and silence.

"Do you want to practice your singing?" asked Rachel.

"What would be the point? I'm not going to any singing competition. I'm not doing anything ever again."

Rachel slid close to Quinn on the bench and put one arm on hers. "The point is, you love it. Maybe not as much as I did when I was eighteen and I lost that NYADA audition to Kurt, but that's beside the point. I don't agree with the decisions you're making, but you're gonna need music." Quinn spared a grateful smile. "I never did get a chance to tell you just how amazing you were when you sang at my wedding. I may have looked like I was busy dancing with my dads, but all I could really think about was how proud I was of you."

Quinn smiled and pulled Rachel into the best hug she could offer on top of her rapidly expanding belly. A few seconds later, Brittany entered the room and piled on top of them.

"There's actually something I've been meaning to ask you guys," said Quinn. "When I go into labor, could you be at the hospital with me? I'm going to need someone there besides Noah to tell the nurses not to scream at me to keep pushing harder and faster."

Brittany and Rachel glanced at each other and laughed.

"We were already planning on being there, Quinn," said Brittany.

"Really?"

"Of course," said Rachel. "We'd never have it any other way. See?" Rachel pulled out her smart phone and found the day in her calendar app that was marked "Take Quinn to hospital." Quinn just smiled and blushed.

And a few seconds later, her water broke.

GLEEGLEEGLEEGLEEGLEEGLEE

The girls were as good as their word. Within half an hour, the girls had closed up the dance studio, driven Quinn to the hospital, and wheeled her down the hall to the maternity ward. While Rachel drove, Brittany used Quinn's phone to call Noah and tell him to come with some of Quinn's clothes from home, and then she used it to call Sam and tell him it was time to ask the stork to deliver Quinn's baby.

The nurses at the hospital quickly moved Quinn into her hospital bed and dressed her in a blue gown. Brittany and Rachel sat on either side of her and held her hands while she screamed.

No one had told her that it was going to hurt quite this much, or that it was going to be quite this hard to concentrate on breathing.

"You're moving along pretty fast," Sam remarked as he counted the seconds between Quinn's contractions. "The baby should be here within a couple of hours."

"Make it go faster," Quinn whimpered.

Sam squeezed her shoulder sympathetically. "I would if I could."

"Hey," said Noah as he strode in. "There you are."

Shit. She hadn't thought this part through.

Quinn forced a smile. "Dr. Evans, this is my husband, Noah."

Sam nervously got up to shake Noah's hand. Noah took Sam's seat and pressed a few rushed kisses to Quinn's lips and cheeks.

"Quinn should really get some rest," said Sam. "Big moment coming soon."

Rachel squealed with delight. A small part of Quinn felt like slapping her.

"Dr. Evans?"

Sam turned back and looked at Quinn. "Yes?"

"I just want to be clear about one thing. I want drugs. I want massive amounts of drugs. I want the maximum legal limit of drugs."

Sam nodded. "Noted and understood." When he turned to leave the room, he bumped into Sue Sylvester, who was wearing a hospital robe similar to Quinn's and pulling an I.V. behind her.

"Hey, Sue," said Quinn. "What are you doing here?"

"Just came to wish you good luck," said Sue. "I made you a card out of my old Cheerios stationary. You can open it after all this excitement is over."

Quinn smiled in spite of the pain she was experiencing. "Thanks. Rachel, could you take that?"

Rachel took the card and set it down on the nightstand.

"What are you doing at the hospital, though?" asked Quinn.

"I'm just here to have my dumb surgery," Sue grumbled. "They made me take off my track suit for the first time in 38 years. Outrageous." Then she turned and glanced at Noah. "Hey, I remember you! You're the husband."

Noah grinned. "That's right."

Sue shot Noah a dirty look on the way out the door.

GLEEGLEEGLEE

The longest hour of Quinn's life went by. Her breathing became more and more labored. Brittany and Rachel brought her ice chips and pillows. Noah kept singing songs and telling crude jokes to try to distract her. Sam and the nurses moved in and out of the room periodically. Eventually, he walked in accompanied by a woman with long, brown hair who was also wearing a doctor's robe and wearing a nametag that said, "Dr. M. Evans."

"You're doing great, honey," said Noah with a boyish grin.

"You are doing great, Quinn," Sam assured her, just as the female doctor approached him from behind and wrapped one arm around his waist.

"Hi," said the woman with a sweet, unknowing smile. "I'm Dr. Marlene Evans. It's so nice to finally meet you! Sam talks about you all the time! He thinks you're an amazing woman."

Sam smiled sheeplishly at Quinn. "Did I mention that my wife is a resident here?"

"I…" Quinn breathed. "I think so."

"He probably did, he tells everybody," said Marlene.

Sam smiled. "Well I'm proud of you, sweetheart."

Marlene blushed as Sam leaned in to give her a kiss.

Quinn leaned back against the pillow, closed her eyes, and focused on breathing. Even the pain in the lower half of her body was more pleasant to concentrate on than THAT.

"She's fully dialated, doctor," said the nurse who was currently examining Quinn's underside. "I think it's time for her to breech."

Sam cleared his throat. "Alright, this is it." He gave Marlene another kiss goodbye before she left the room. Quinn closed her eyes and leaned back against the pillow, letting the pain consume her, refusing to hold back her screams. She felt Brittany's hand slip into hers. She heard Rachel encouraging her to push and helping the nurse count out the seconds that each push lasted. She heard Noah yelling, "Go, go, go!" in contrast with Sam's gentle encouragement.

"You're getting close, Quinn," said Sam. "Just one more big one. We're almost there."

"We're almost there," Noah repeated, attempting to kiss Quinn's sweaty forehead and making a disgusted noise as he pulled back.

"I don't want this baby, Noah!" screamed Quinn. "You did this to me! One damn drunk night!" She heard him laugh. "You suck, you suck, you suck, you…"

In that moment, she felt the pain evaporate from her body as the newborn baby slid out into Sam's hands. She heard a small, soft, cry.

"Wow! THAT'S how the stork delivers a baby?"

"It's a girl!" said Sam.

"Aw, damn," Noah muttered. "How do you like that, Quinnie?"

Quinn kept her eyes shut, tried to slow her breathing, tried to comfort herself with the thought that the most intense physical pain she had ever experienced was over. She didn't want to see Noah, or Sam, or it. Not yet.

"Would you like to cut the cord, Mr. Puckerman?"

"Sure, why not?"

Quinn heard faint applause from the surrounding nurses as Noah severed the cord that connected her to it. She felt them cleaning her, heard Noah muttering something along the lines of there goes that dream of a son in the NFL, heard it crying.

"Mrs. Puckerman, would you like to hold your baby?" A pause. "Mrs. Puckerman? Did you hear me?"

Quinn opened her eyes and shook. There was a nurse standing right next to her holding a squirming little bundle in her arms, wrapped in a white striped blanket.

"Are you okay?"

Quinn nodded. "Give her to me."

The nurse smiled and deposited the whimpering newborn in Quinn's arms. Quinn felt time slow down around her as the little head turned and looked up at her, a frightened uncertainty in those wide, green eyes. Quinn pulled the baby against her chest and felt a tiny hand grip her finger.

This was it. This baby…this beautiful, unsung melody…was what she had been so afraid of.

"Hi," breathed Quinn softly. "Hi, little girl."

The baby let out a soft whimper as she tightened her grip on Quinn's hand. Quinn smiled and began to sing.

 _"_ _Never forget who you are  
Little star  
Shining brighter than all the stars in the sky  
Never forget how to dream  
Butterfly  
Never forget where you come from  
From love"_

The baby's cries ceased. Quinn felt a wide smile creep across her face.

 _"_ _You are a treasure to me  
You are my star  
You breathe new life  
Into my broken heart"_

Quinn's singing was interrupted by Noah's face suddenly popping up right at the edge of the bed. He was kneeling down, looking up at her from over her daughter's head.

"Remember what I said, Quinn. Don't you go loving that baby too much. "

Quinn smiled and looked at her husband. "I don't love you anymore, Noah. I haven't loved you in years. I want a divorce."

Noah chuckled. "That's not funny, Quinn."

"I want you the hell out of my life. I don't want to see you or touch you ever again. If you ever come within six yards of either of us, I will flatten your sorry ass and I will enjoy doing it."

Quinn smiled and turned back to the baby.

 _"_ _May goodness surround you  
My love I have found you  
Little star  
Shining bright  
You breathe new life  
Into my broken heart"_

Quinn smiled when the baby made a content little noise in her arms, blissfully unaware of Sam's hand on Noah's shoulder, Brittany's shout of, "stop the violence!" and the orderlies who were rushing in to restrain him before he could do any damage.

"Liberty," Quinn whispered as she stroked the baby's soft cheek with her thumb. "That's your name. Libby Louise."

GLEEGLEEGLEEGLEEGLEE

"Quinn? It's time to wake up."

Quinn stirred. It was almost nightfall. The sky outside her bedroom was orange. Libby slept peacefully in a plastic bassinet nearby.

"Quinn?"

Quinn fully opened her eyes and realized that Rachel and Brittany were standing over.

"You have to get up," said Rachel. "You're being evicted from the hospital."

"What?"

"Noah is refusing to pay the bill. They've given you half an hour to leave."

"Shit," Quinn mumbled. "He's trying to give me no choice but to come home."

"You'll come stay with Finn and me," Rachel insisted. "Until you can get on your feet."

"I'd let you stay with us for a while, too," said Brittany. "But I think Santana might scare the baby."

Libby began to stir in her bassinet and whimper. Brittany and Rachel went and fussed over her for a minute while Quinn sat up.

"She's so beautiful, Quinn," said Brittany.

Quinn beamed. "The love of my life."

Just then, Rachel's face fell. She carried Libby over to Quinn and set her in her arms before saying what she needed to say.

"We have some bad news for you," said Rachel. Quinn's eyes widened with concern. "Sue Sylvester…well, she isn't doing so well. She went into a coma during her surgery, and they don't think she's ever going to wake up."

"What? No." Quinn shook her head as Libby began whimpering. It didn't seem possible that tough, sturdy Sue Sylvester could be screaming orders at her employees one day, and the next just be…gone. It didn't seem right that life was just as fragile as it was precious.

Brittany nodded sadly and squeezed Quinn's hand. "We know you have a soft spot for her."

"You're probably the only person alive who ever has," Rachel pointed out.

"Don't say that!" said Brittany.

"Well, it's true. Sue's mean."

"Not to me, she wasn't," said Quinn. "She came in here while I was in labor, and she gave me this card. See?" Quinn handed the baby to Brittany and grabbed the envelope Sue had given her off the bedside table. She pulled a piece of paper with Cheerios letterhead on it that simply read, "To my only friend. Start Fresh, Sue."

"That's sweet," said Rachel. "I wish she could have lived to see you tell Noah off. She would have loved that."

Quinn smiled. "Yes, she would."

Quinn folded up the piece of paper and began to tuck it back into the envelope, when she suddenly realized that there was something else inside. A thicker piece of paper. Quinn pulled it out and let it unfold in her hand. It was the deed to the dance academy. And the name on it was Quinn Puckerman.

Quinn's heart began pounding. Was this real?

"Are you okay?" asked Rachel.

"Yeah," Quinn stammered. "I'm fine. Everything's fine." She shoved everything back in the envelope. "Let's get ready to leave."

GLEEGLEEGLEE

A short while later, Sam found the trio in the hallway. Quinn holding Libby, Brittany pushing Quinn's wheelchair, and Rachel carrying all their bags.

"Where are you going?" asked Sam.

"They're kicking me out."

"I see," Sam cleared his throat. "Ladies, I'm afraid I'm going to need a moment alone with my patient."

Brittany and Rachel both starred at him skeptically but stepped off to the side. At Quinn's insistence, Brittany took Libby with her.

Sam sighed and knelt down in front of Quinn's wheelchair, putting himself at her eye level.

"I know what you're thinking," he said. Quinn's eyes widened. "No, that's a lie. I don't. What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking that I could never thank you enough for everything you've done for me. As my doctor, and, well…everything else."

Sam smiled, though the expression in his eyes betrayed that he already knew he wouldn't like what Quinn was about to say next.

"But the way your wife looks at you, with so much love, and trust…"

She didn't need to finish that sentence.

"So, that's it? It's over?"

"Well, we could keep going for another year or two," said Quinn. "Until it all comes back in our faces with some big dramatic event in which people we care about end up getting hurt. Or we could just end this right now. Marley never has to find out. I never have to explain to Libby why mommy is having sleepovers with Dr. Evans. We just say goodbye and part ways."

Sam looked away and gulped. Quinn allowed herself one last moment to look into those beautiful eyes that had gazed at her with so much love, and one last short, sweet kiss goodbye.

"Rachel!" she called. "Let's go."

And they left.

GLEEGLEEGLEE

And so, Quinn and Libby went home with Finn and Rachel. The following morning, Quinn called the Lima courthouse to file for divorce only to be asked if she still wanted to bail her husband out of jail. Apparently he had driven back to the hospital to try to pick up Quinn after drinking several beers to calm his nerves, but had never made it because he had veered off the road and crashed into a tree. He wasn't very badly injured, but his car was totaled, and he was charged with driving under the influence, driving without a license, and driving an uninsured motor vehicle. Quinn had always assumed that the reason he hadn't bought her a car or paid for her driver's license to be renewed had been because he didn't want her to go anywhere other than work. It turned out it was because he didn't want the extra expense, and besides that had apparently lost his license years earlier when he was first caught driving while intoxicated.

Quinn declined to bail Noah out of jail, figuring that since he hadn't even been willing to pay her hospital bills, she didn't owe him a damn thing. She had gone back to their house to retrieve her personal affects and the crib they had bought and clean out the fridge. Then she had taken her key to Noah's house, put it in an envelope, and addressed it to the Ohio State department of corrections. She never spoke to him again. Four months later, their divorce was finalized.

Meanwhile, Quinn allowed Santana to continue running the dance academy while she took an extended maternity leave. Rachel found a male musical theater instructor to take over some of her classes while she took over some of Quinn's classes. They made do at the academy, and Quinn made do with the profits. When Libby was six weeks old, Quinn cleared out the teacher's lounge, found a storage facility to keep the good items that weren't being used, and converted that room into a studio apartment of sorts. Tiny living area, tiny kitchenette, tiny table, bed, and crib. It wasn't a whole lot. But it was enough.

Eventually, when Quinn began to devote a bit of time each day to focus on running her business, Santana brought up the subject of the name.

"It's not Sue's anymore," she reminded Quinn. "She wanted you to have it. You should make it your own."

But Quinn didn't want to make anything her own anymore.

"I know exactly what I want to call it," she said. "Libby's Rising Stars."


End file.
